


Shaman

by Toshua



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Shamanism, Spirit Animals, Spirit Guides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 56,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3410435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshua/pseuds/Toshua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team of Ellison and Sandburg are called to Alaska to search for a missing child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vision Quest

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published as a stand alone zine. I will post it in chapters over the next week.

Chapter 1

Simon looked up from his desk at the rapping on his door. _What now?_ “Enter.”

The door opened and two men came in past Rhonda’s guiding hand. She looked at her boss and shrugged. The non-verbal shorthand was obvious. She didn’t know who they were, but downstairs had cleared them.

Banks got up from his chair, came around his desk as he sized up his guests. He introduced himself and offered his hand to his two guests.

“Robert Agawaik,” the oldest of the two men shook Banks’ hand. “This is Peter Blackburn.”

Simon saw two Native American men. Agawaik was stocky and several inches shorter than Banks. His long black hair was streaked with gray and tied at the nape. The other man was younger, but how much younger Banks couldn’t tell. The brown eyes meeting Banks’ were wise beyond the age showing on the slightly olive skin. Both men were in neat jeans, flannel shirts and windbreaker jackets.

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” Banks motioned toward his office chairs and resumed his seat behind his desk.

The two men exchanged glances. Robert placed a magazine on Banks’ desk. “We were hoping we could talk to this detective.” Simon glanced at the glossy cover, not really having to see the cover to know who was on it. Simon groaned inwardly. He knew he would regret that article the instant the newest issue of Anthropology Today hit the street.

“Detective Ellison is in court at the moment.” He raised his hand at the next unvoiced question. “Dr. Sandburg is at the University. He joins us a couple afternoons a week. Is there someone else who can help you?”

The men remained silent.

Banks sighed. “Would you care to talk to me about your problem?”

Silence.

Banks leaned back and looked at them again. His own insight only suggested they weren’t the victims of a trauma or a murder. It was something different.

Robert and Peter exchanged a long glance. The older man nodded, then looked at Simon. “Captain Banks, my son has been kidnapped. We would like Detective Ellison and his partner, Dr. Sandburg, assigned to the case.”

Simon reached for a cigar and rolled it between his fingers. “Perhaps we should start at the beginning.”

Agawaik reached into a shirt pocket and pulled out a business card which he slid across the desk to Simon.

Simon took the card and looked at it. ‘Wales Logging, Prince of Wales Island, Alaska Robert Agawaik, owner.’

“During spring break, my son disappeared from our home in Alaska. We were warned not to bring the police into the situation. Of course, I did. It’s been a week and there are no leads, no results. My son is still missing.”

“Alaska is out of my jurisdiction, sir. Surely you understand that.”

Blackburn nodded. “We were hoping that some exception could be made.” He nodded toward the magazine. “I understand that Detective Ellison works with the FBI and other police agencies when time allows.”

Banks picked up the magazine and glared at the photo on the cover. Ellison and Sandburg stared back at him. Ellison stood with his arms crossed, wearing a black turtleneck and his shoulder holster. Sandburg stood in front and slightly to one side of Ellison, hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, wearing his glasses and a tweed sport jacket with leather elbow patches. His arms were full of several large books, topped with a skull.

The legend underneath the photo read **‘Brains and Brawn: Partners in Law Enforcement.** ”

“I knew I should have never agreed to allow this article to be published,” Simon growled, then tossed the magazine back on his desk.

“According to the article, you consider Dr. Sandburg one of your detectives, just as much as Detective Ellison.” Blackburn smiled, but the smile didn’t meet his wise eyes.

“He works as a consultant between teaching classes.” Simon admitted.

Robert nodded. “We were hoping to talk to him, to both of them. We thought they would understand the situation a little better than anyone else who has been working the case.”

Simon leaned forward and looked at them. “Why can they help, and nobody else?”

Peter spoke up. “I am a shaman, the tribal spiritual leader for the clans living on Prince of Wales Island. When Robert’s son was kidnapped, he came to me, hoping that I could help. I have certain – talents – that let me know things.”

Simon took off his glasses. “I’m aware of what a shaman can do in certain cultures.”

Peter nodded. “Having an anthropologist on the payroll is probably educational.”

Simon shook his head. “You have no idea.”

The comment generated a chuckle from both men.

Simon looked at his window and through it to the bullpen. A tall figure in dark blue was moving through it. Simon slid out of his seat and came around his desk to his door. He yanked open his inner door.

“Ellison, get in here.” The man owning the name looked over his shoulder as he was removing his suit jacket. With a sigh, he draped it over his seat and followed Simon’s beckoning fingers, struggling with his tie as he went.

Simon shut the door behind them. Introductions were made again, and Ellison settled down into another chair. He spotted the magazine on Simon’s desk and reached for it. He looked at the cover for a second, then tossed it back.

“Is that getting me in trouble again?” The comment was said with a weary smile.

Simon smiled grimly. “You could say that. Where is your cohort today?”

Jim looked at his watch. “Should be here in about thirty minutes, provided he doesn’t get trapped by somebody needing something or wanting an autograph.”

“Does that happen often?” Peter asked.

“Only by someone who thinks they’ll be able to trade it someday for someone important.” Jim smiled at Simon. Then he looked at Robert and Peter. “Want to explain why you want our services?”

****************************

Blair Sandburg barely balanced a large stack of files, two books, a latte and his backpack as the elevator doors slid open. He’d stopped at Records to pick up a stack of files he was using to track down a theory concerning a rush of robberies in the Spanish section of Cascade. Carefully, the teacher pulled open the door to Major Crimes, wedged a foot in followed by a shoulder before sliding the rest of the way through. He made it to his desk and rescued his drink before the stack of files slipped to the floor with an echoing and embarrassing splat. Sandburg looked at the pile in disgust.

“Hey, Hairboy, looks like you need a hand, or two.” Henri Brown knelt next to the teacher and started gathering papers and photos.

Blair nodded. “Some days it doesn’t pay to get out of bed, you know?”

Brown stacked the pile on the corner of the desk. “Yeah, well, you’ve got a few seconds before our fearless leader sticks his head out and spots you. Ellison is already in there.”

“Oh, great. What did we do now?”

Henri shrugged. “Don’t know. Whatever it is, good luck.”

Sandburg nodded and sat down, wondering if he could hide behind the computer monitor until the moment with his captain passed. The door to Simon’s office opened and Simon’s head peered out.

Too late.

“Sandburg. Get in here.” The captain’s voice wasn’t a bellow, but it wasn’t a happy sound either.

Sandburg gathered his lukewarm drink and went into the lion’s den, casting a swift glance at his partner and the empty seat beside him.

“Good morning, Simon, Jim.”

Jim smiled at his partner and winked quickly behind Simon’s back. Blair settled into the seat next to him with an answering smile. They’d parted early that morning, Blair to an early teacher’s meeting, Jim to a strategy session with the District Attorney before court.

Their routine had changed when Blair received his degree and accepted a part-time professorship at Rainier. Now that Blair was a teacher, they spent most of their day apart, staying in touch by cell phone. He joined Jim at the station two afternoons a week. Rainier was pleased with keeping the popular young man, even on an abbreviated schedule, and the Police Department had found his insight compelling enough to offer a consultant position to him on an as-needed basis.

Jim took Blair’s latte from the younger man’s hand, then introduced him to the other men in the room. While Blair shook hands with Robert and Peter, Jim sipped the latte and frowned at the temperature.

“It’s cold, Chief.”

Blair took the drink. “It’s cold because I haven’t had time to drink it.”

Jim’s smile grew bigger. “I like them cold.” Blair gave him back the drink. “I know. Enjoy it. You buy me the next one.”

“Deal.” Jim pulled the lid off the cup and sniffed. Vanilla, with a touch of mint.

Simon’s long suffering sigh interrupted the by-play between detective and teacher. “Gentleman, now that we’ve settled who gets to drink a cold latte, maybe Mr. Agawaik and Mr. Blackburn will explain why they came from Alaska to ask for our help.”

Seeing that they had the floor, Peter reached into the pocket of his hooded jacket and pulled out a tissue-wrapped object. A gnarled, callused and sinewy hand reached out, and offered the object to Sandburg.

Blair accepted the small object from the hand, letting it rest in his palm before unfolding the white paper to stare at the small carving. He looked into the dark eyes staring at him. “It’s a wolf.”

Blackburn nodded. Blair lifted the small carving out of its nest, holding it closer. The animal was standing; small ears perked forward, tail up and slightly curved over the back, one front paw raised as if to step, or maybe lunge toward something.

“It’s yellow cedar, isn’t it?” Blair stroked along the small figure’s back, feeling the grain of the wood. “Why?” The rest of the question died unasked.

“Wolf is your totem, your spirit guide. Wolf says you can help. It named you Shaman.”

The other men in the room remained silent. Peter looked into the bright blue eyes, then turned and stared into a pair of pale blue ones that glittered like ice.

“I didn’t understand what I was seeing until I saw the two of you together.” His eyes never left Jim’s face. “You are a Guardian, a _yan a-ya-deil_ , a Watchman.” He looked at Sandburg. “You are his Shaman, his _shu-ya-nei_ , his Guide. No wonder the wolf led me to you.” He looked at Jim again. “Our people have very old legends, of a guardian for the tribes. It was only thought to be a fairy tale.” His eyes narrowed as he studied the detective’s face. “Your totem - is a cat. I don’t recognize it. Very fierce, very large.”

“A black jaguar.” Blair mumbled. “Are you a Shaman, Mr. Blackburn?”

Peter nodded. “I am a Shaman to the clans still living on Prince of Wales Island. So was my father, and his father. We have the gift to see certain spirit animals, especially the powerful ones. Over the years, a practicing shaman learns a lot of things on the spirit plane. But I don’t think I’ve encountered anyone with your power animal before, Detective Ellison.”

Simon shook his head. “Gentlemen, we were talking about a kidnapping. You can talk about the ‘spirit plane’ some other time.”

Peter nodded at the team then turned his attention to Robert. Robert took a deep breath. “I own one of the logging companies up in the Tongass National Forest in southeast Alaska. Last month, we finally got a fairly large logging contract and we’re supposed to start logging this summer. A week after we got a confirmed start date, my ten-year-old son disappeared from the deck of our Alaska home. My wife and I were there, getting the equipment and house ready for the logging season. We called in every family in the area and searched the woods, the beach, any boats pulled up in coves, everywhere we could look. We didn’t find anything. When my wife and I came back to the cabin, we found John’s jacket on the deck. It was soaked with salt water. There was a land otter’s tail wrapped around the cuff of his jacket.”

“A land otter tail? What is that and what is the significance?” Simon asked. When Peter’s mouth opened to explain, Simon held up his hand. “In a minute. Please continue, Mr. Agawaik.”

Robert took a deep breath and let it out. “I made a radio call to Klawock and reported my son missing. The local police promised to be out with more volunteers to search the next morning. The next morning, my wife found a note and several mussel shells arranged around one of John’s toys on the deck. The note said that John had been kidnapped to stop us from logging. If we reneged on the contract we had, he would be released.”

“What did you do?” Blair had grabbed a pen and pad off Simon’s desk and was making notes.

“We gave the note to the local police and continued to search. The Alaska State Troopers were called in, and they have been working the case for a week. There hasn’t been any leads, or luck. We started looking for outside help.”

Jim nodded toward the magazine on Simon’s desk. “And that led you to us.”

Peter nodded. “That and the vision I had two nights ago.” He looked at Sandburg, then back to Simon. “I dreamed of a wolf. It ran toward the city lights, stopping and looking over its shoulder until I followed. The wolf stopped at a salt river and looked across. Across the water I saw a city I did not recognize. But I studied the skyline carefully. Then the wolf walked along the water until it came to a building. The building had a wolf carving on the door. The wolf sat down in front of the door. Then it vanished and I woke up. This copy of the magazine arrived in the village mail today. When I saw the cover, I knew what the vision meant.”

Jim took the small figurine from Sandburg’s palm and studied it slowly. He handed it back to Sandburg but his eyes were on Blackburn. “A vision?”

Blackburn nodded back, face solemn.

“Before we get into your ‘visions’ Mr. Blackburn, I’m more curious about this ‘land otter tail’ Mr. Agawaik said was on his son’s jacket. What did the Alaska police do with the evidence? What did they think?” Simon asked.

Blackburn answered. “Among our people there is a legend about the ‘land-otter people’. They were called kushtakas. Legend was kushtakas kidnapped children, caused storms, disease and famine. They were the ‘bogey-men’ in our culture. A person wearing a land otter tail was under the kushtakas influence and were lost to their family.”

“But how does that tie into your son’s disappearance, Mr. Agawaik?” Jim sat his empty cup on Simon’s desk.

“We think that whoever took John, believes that we will be afraid of the legend. The troopers think we’re dealing with someone who has a fleeting understanding of our legends, and think we will panic and do what they ask.”

“Is that a feasible assumption?” Blair asked.

Blackburn moved around in his seat. “I don’t think so. Contrary to what a lot of non-residents believe, we are not superstitious or ignorant. Our legends date from thousands of years ago. Every now and then, someone starts a movement to take us back to our roots. But for every good story our history has, there is another one of famine and death. If we don’t move forward, our people, and our culture will die.”

“Who has the evidence?” Simon asked.

“The troopers in Klawock are in charge of the investigation. They have the files.”

“We will have to go through them to offer our assistance. It would be to our advantage if you make the request. Then we can work together to come up with a game plan.”

Robert nodded to Simon. “We’re staying at the local Best Western Inn. The police have our phone numbers there. If we could borrow your phone, we’ll call and see what their reactions are.”

Simon nodded toward his conference table. “Use my speaker phone and I’ll sit in if you don’t mind. Maybe I can help.”

Jim nudged Blair. “We’re be in the bullpen.” The partners got up and started out of Simon’s office.

“Jim.” Simon called to his detective’s back. When Jim turned around, the magazine caught him in the chest. “Burn that thing.”

“Aye, sir.” Jim rolled up the magazine and tucked it under his arm as he followed Sandburg out.

In the bullpen, Blair grabbed the magazine and stuffed it into his backpack with a smirk. He flopped down at his desk, and Jim leaned on the corner.

“You’ve got to admit, Chief, that article has cost us a lot over the past two weeks.”

“It only hit the streets this week. You can’t blame everything that has happened over the last two weeks on that article.” Sandburg glared at his partner.

“No? The editor of the magazine calls when his house is broken into. He doesn’t call Robbery, he calls us. The guy who took the photos calls us when his house is broken into. Again, us, not Robbery.” Jim looked at his partner smugly.

“And if they hadn’t called, we would have never been in on the loop with this string of robberies.”

“And we wouldn’t be up to our elbows in unsolved robberies for the past year.” Jim headed for the break room, Sandburg at his heels.

“That article has nothing to do with this rash of robberies, Jim.” Blair insisted.

Jim poured them both coffee and started digging into his jeans pockets for change. He joined Sandburg at the table and gave Blair the coffee mug. He dumped a handful of change on the table and started counting.

Blair sipped his coffee as he watched Jim’s fingers. He looked at the detective’s angular face and smiled. “You’re just jealous because I’m the one getting the phone calls from the women.”

Jim tapped Blair on the back of the head. “Nope, not jealous at all. Your table leg days are over. You promised. Now that we have caller ID on the phone, they can call all day long.” The words were said with a smile and a twinkle.

“Yes, Jim, I promised. And so did you.” Sandburg’s words were soft, and spoken with quiet conviction. Jim smiled at the man across the table from him and shoved the change to Sandburg. While Blair fed the vending machine, Jim watched the compact body and remembered. After the young man’s death and resurrection at the university fountain, Jim had realized what he’d almost lost. It’d taken six months before things settled down enough for him to feel comfortable to voice his feelings and another month before Sandburg was convinced the feelings weren’t remorse or guilt. A two week vacation in Hawaii had turned into a life time commitment.

Blair flopped back into his seat and pushed Jim a bag of pretzels and a granola bar. Jim looked at the granola bar and pushed it back.

“Jim, if we’re not going to have lunch, pretzels just don’t get it.” Blair opened the granola bar and broke it in half. He wet his finger and picked up the fallen crumbs.

Jim ripped open the pretzels and grabbed a stick. “Never said we weren’t gonna get lunch, Chief.” He watched his lover’s eyes as he sucked the salt off the stick and wrapped his tongue around the end of it. When the dark blue eyes started dilating, Jim sucked the stick into his mouth and chewed on it.

Blair leaned forward and whispered, Sentinel soft. “If you’re going to tease me like that, the least you can do is feed me.” The bright blue eyes were locked on Jim’s mouth.

“Who’s teasing? Let’s go.” Jim pushed away from the table and grabbed his open bag of pretzels. He stretched as he got up, showing off his body and the arousal evident through the tight jeans.

Blair dumped their coffee in the trash cans. “Just wait until I get you home,” he mumbled as he edged by Jim, deliberately rubbing his butt against Jim’s pelvis.

Jim chuckled and followed his partner to the elevator.

*******************************

The door to the loft was barely open when Blair pushed Jim through it and followed closely, pushing them through the crack of the open door. He kicked the door closed and waited impatiently as Jim locked it. As soon as the lock was thrown, Blair hauled his partner up against the wall and wrapped his arms around the tall body before sealing his lips to the waiting mouth.

After a second of stealing Jim’s air, Blair pulled back and looked at his partner. “You would tease me all the way home, wouldn’t you? Knowing we don’t have but a half hour before we have to head back to the precinct.”

“So why are you wasting time talking, Chief?” Jim’s fingers were undoing a shirt and pulling it free from Blair’s jeans. He smiled at the expression on his lover’s face as Blair dropped his arms and peeled out of the shirt.

“You are so bad, you know that Jim? I don’t know why I put up with you.” The first shirt was gone and while the tee shirt was being pulled up and over his head, Blair’s feet were trying to heel out of a pair of sneakers. He overbalanced and would have fallen if Jim hadn’t been there. The tee shirt went flying somewhere behind Sandburg. “I can talk and undress at the same time, man.”

Jim wrapped his arms around the naked waist and kissed his lover, slowly walking him backward toward the couch. When he knew it was safe, he let go and pushed his lover down on the cushions. Then he started working out of his own clothes while Blair pushed and pulled at jeans and shorts.

In another moment they were nude and Jim lowered himself onto Blair, covering the smaller, compact body with his own. Blair wrapped himself around Jim and arched up, trying to force his own raging erection against his partner.

“Slow down, Chief. We’ve got time.” Jim kissed him, both hands in the long hair, freeing the ponytail and carding through it as they humped against each other. Jim kept whispering in Blair’s ear, licking and kissing the long neck. One hand snaked between their bodies and found their cocks, pressed tightly against each other. He gathered them in his fist and began stroking gently, using their sweat and fluids to smooth the way.

“Oh, yeah. That’s good. Jim, love you…love… feels good… lover.” Blair eyes were closed and his hands were tight on Jim’s ass, gripping and releasing, adding to the rhythm they were setting.

“Gonna make you feel good, Chief. My Blair…lover.” Jim forgot words as he spiraled higher, seeking his own release as he worked to bring Blair with him. Blair was groaning under him, hips rising and rocking as they worked together. Jim could smell the two of them together, their scent filling the air around them, absorbing into the fabric under them.

“Oh, Jim, almost… yes, yes… now, Jim, lover, my Jim.” Then Blair was pulsing into Jim’s hand, slicking the skin between them. A heartbeat later, Jim followed, panting and groaning into Blair’s neck.

The two sweat-soaked bodies stilled and the rooms were silent except for their breathing. Jim finally elbowed up and looked at Blair who was panting under him. He glanced around the room as if to get his bearings. Blair opened his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He slid one hand over Jim’s chest and lightly scratched a nipple.

“Is that a record?” Blair panted out.

“Don’t know. Close.” Jim looked at the mess between their lower bodies. “At least this time we have time to clean up a little.” Jim levered himself off his lover and collapsed back on the sofa, moving Blair’s legs a little.

“You clean, I’ll make us a couple of sandwiches so we can eat in the truck on the way back.”

“Can’t leave you lying here, you’ll fall asleep. Let’s wash off together and then make sandwiches.”

Blair sat up. “Okay. Don’t forget clothes. We need to be wearing what we left with.”

“Right.”

*************

They went back to the station, fighting the lethargy of the afternoon and their own sated bodies. The team found Simon glaring at the fax machine as it spit out page after page. The big police captain grunted an answer in return to their greetings.

Simon dropped the stack of faxes on Jim’s desk. “That’s the file about the kidnapping. It’s everything the local police have except for the photos. There is nobody up there who can scan them and e-mail them to us. We’re lucky to get the fax info.”

Blair took the stack of pages and settled down to read. When Simon didn’t return to his office, the teacher looked up with a question in his eyes. Simon was staring at Jim.

“I got an okay for your assistance from the Alaska State Troopers. It seems your reputation has spread north, Detective Ellison. If you really want the assignment, Mr. Agawaik has agreed to pay your travel costs.” Simon’s gaze went from Ellison to Sandburg, waiting for their answer.

“We want the assignment, Captain.” Sandburg answered before Ellison could open his mouth.

“We do?” Ellison looked at his partner, then back to his captain. “I would like to do a little more research on this before we say yes or no. I mean, how much faith can you put on a man who follows a vision of a wolf?”

“Don’t know. How much faith do you put in a man who has visions of a jaguar?” Blair words only carried to Simon, knowing that Jim would hear him without the rest of the bullpen hearing.

“Touché, Chief.” Jim reached over and grabbed several of the pages.

The files contained a rundown of the company and families involved. Wales Logging was a small logging company owned by one Robert Agawaik, forty-seven and wife, Dana, forty-five. Their son, John, was ten years old. Their home address was listed as Seattle, but the logging company was physically on Prince of Wales Island in southeast Alaska. It was struggling to stay afloat by taking contracts that others considered too small. It made wages year to year, but not much of a profit. The logging contract awarded by the US Forest Service was the first time it might make enough money to pay off the outstanding loans for equipment and supplies. The owner had no record and there was nothing in the state of Washington’s database or in the federal one on the family. Dead-end.

Peter Blackburn was another dead end. Born somewhere on Prince of Wales Island, his birth records listed Ketchikan as place of birth, which told Ellison nothing. Official records listed names of parents and siblings, where he went to high school but nothing else. He had a commercial fishing license but no vessel was listed, and his family subsistence hunted and fished as allowed by their native heritage. It listed his capacity as the tribal shaman, notary for Klawock, high school principal, and coach for the village basketball team. Nothing in the file reflected anything remotely criminal.

There was a son listed, Daniel, who was in his mid-thirties. He was listed as an employee to Wales Logging, the sole owner of a 50-foot gill netter fishing vessel and a commercial fishing permit which was current. His files were as clean as his father’s, and contained even less information.

Jim tossed the pages back on the desk and looked at Blair. Sandburg looked up from the computer screen, and raised an eyebrow in question. Jim rocked his shoulders, then reached across and scooped up the little wood wolf off of Blair’s desk. He stared at the carving, looking at the tiny depressions containing the wide eyes. The face seemed to reflect a lot of intelligence. “What do you think?” he asked the wolf before he glanced back at Sandburg.

“I think that any man who comes this far on the strength of a vision and a magazine article deserves a little consideration,” Blair tossed his stack of pages on Jim’s desk and pointed to them. “These contain a list of everyone who might have a reason to want the logging company out of business. There are some notes next to some of the names, indicating some investigations have been made.”

Jim took the list and flipped through it. “This reads like a who’s who in the environmental community, from EPA, federal DEC, state DEC, Greenpeace, to local anti-logging groups. Every accusation of illegal logging has been proven unfounded. I don’t see how he’s survived as long as he has with this type of pressure and scrutiny. I’d be inclined to throw in the towel and relocate.”

Blair got up and leaned against Jim’s shoulder, and pointed at a list of names he recognized. “Look at that. Remember when I mentioned Janet and I tied ourselves to a redwood tree? These guys were part of our group. Looks like they still have causes they’re fighting for. I’ll see if I can find their phone numbers. Maybe they have some gossip to share.”

Jim nodded. He tossed the sheets back on the desk. “Sounds like we need to clear our desks for a few days, and pack a bag. What do you wear in Alaska in April?”

“Something warm, I’m sure of that. We need to go shopping.”

“Think Simon will let us put it on the expense account?” Jim smiled toward the closed door.

“I doubt it.” Sandburg gathered up the stack of faxes and slid everything into a file folder. “I’ll make some phone calls, you go tackle our fearless leader about expenses.”

Jim pushed himself up out of his chair. “Sounds like a plan.” He ambled across the room and tapped on the closed door before entering.

Blair looked up from the keyboard, with the phone nestled between his shoulder and ear, as Jim came out of Simon’s office, the police captain following close behind. Jim motioned to Blair to hang up the phone.

“What?” Blair dropped the receiver back into its cradle and typed a couple more things on the keyboard before saving.

Simon sighed as he looked at the two expectant faces. “The FBI called. While there is no proof that the kidnap victim has crossed state lines, they are involved because the child could be moved into Canada easier then to another state. So, since the father has already asked for our assistance, the FBI has seconded the request.” Simon took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

While Simon wasn’t looking, Blair grinned at Jim. He could almost read the captain’s thoughts that were written on the man’s face.

Jim’s lips twitched upward for a second, his eyes watching Simon. He didn’t have to see Blair’s smirk to know what Sandburg was thinking. Since the teacher had received his doctorate and Jim’s fame as a detective kept spreading, they were continually asked to consult on cases outside of Major Crimes. Jim’s skills as a world class detective had catapulted him into teaching from time to time and consultant to the state police and local FBI. Simon Banks, still his captain and friend, growled often and long when a Fed landed in his office, asking for his detective.

“Hand that string of robberies over to Joel and call Agawaik at his hotel. Let him know that you have a week, and I do mean one week, to try and find his son.”

Jim nodded. “Yes sir.” He glanced at Blair. “Will the University have a problem with you being gone again?”

“Oh, they’ll manage.” Blair shrugged. “I’m there more than I used to be, and it’s an unspoken understanding between me and Chancellor Edwards that when I’m needed here, this is where I will be.”

Jim reached around his partner and snagged the file folder and the notebook where Blair had been taking notes. He stuffed both into Blair’s backpack and almost lifted him from his seat. Chancellor Edwards’ name left a bad taste in Jim’s mouth. After the ‘sentinel’ dissertation fiasco and a threatened lawsuit, Sandburg had turned in a dissertation on the police force and how they were the modern day tribal guardians, replacing the ‘sentinels’ of ancient tribes. His doctorate was almost a rubber stamp to keep Rainier out of court.

“Come on, Chief, we need to do a little shopping, visit Agawaik, and run a few errands.” He pushed his partner through the door.

Blair looked at Jim in bewilderment. “What’s the hurry, man?” The words were barely out of his mouth before the elevator door slid open and the mayor’s right hand man stepped clear. He was carrying a copy of Anthropology Today. Detective and teacher headed for the stairs in silent agreement.

 

********************************

The old blue Ford pulled up in front of the Best Western Inn and Jim killed the engine. He glanced over at Sandburg who was reading through the file one more time and making more notes. The two hadn’t spoken much since they left the precinct.

“Penny for your thoughts, Chief.”

“I was thinking about Blackburn and how he knew who we were in context to his tribal legends, and never even blinked. How many people, in this age, would be so easy with that?”

“You’ve spent your whole life studying this. Maybe he has too.” Jim shrugged as he opened the door.

When Blair came around and joined him, Jim tapped him lightly on the back of his head. “Just remember why we’re here, and don’t get sidetracked until after we get the boy back.”

Sandburg shot a glare at Jim. “I know my job, Jim,” he growled.

“Never said you didn’t, Chief.” Jim lead the way up the sidewalk and into the lobby of the small hotel, Blair one step behind. They waited patiently as the receptionist called the room they needed, then for Robert and Peter to come down to them.

Jim stopped watching Blair watch the traffic when the elevator door pinged and the two Alaskans entered the small conversation area off of the lobby. The two men joined the detective and teacher with welcoming smiles. Robert and Peter settled down on a facing couch.

“Please tell me that you’re coming to Alaska to give us a hand.” Robert looked from one face to another.

Jim nodded. “We’ve been cleared to come for one week. Hopefully in that time, we can find him, or at least come up with some solid leads.”

Peter nodded. “Good. You may have a little difficulty getting into Klawock on the first try because of weather, but getting to Ketchikan shouldn’t be a problem.”

“How soon can you clear your schedule?” Robert’s voice held a touch of anxiety.

“As soon as we can get reservations.” Jim tried to soothe the older man. “However, we would like to see his home in Seattle. Maybe there is something there that you have overlooked.”

Robert looked at Peter, then back at Ellison. “Nobody has been to our Seattle home. He was taken in Alaska, that’s where everyone has been looking.”

Blair spoke up. “Could there be some school friends, or playground friends that might know if a stranger was watching your son? Maybe a neighbor who noticed a car that didn’t belong in the neighborhood.”

Robert shook his head. “It never occurred to me.” He sighed. “Just shows you what I know about thinking like a kidnapper. Why don’t you fly to Seattle, and time your layover for an afternoon or evening? I can show you my home, introduce you to my wife and let you look around our warehouse facilities. It may not give you anything new, but then…” Robert’s voice drifted silent.

“Have you talked to the Seattle police? Do they know your son is missing?” Jim watched Robert as the man realized he may not have exhausted all the resources to find his son. Jim heard Robert’s heartbeat and respiration began to accelerate as new thoughts sped through the father’s mind.

“No. It never occurred to me.” He looked hopefully at Jim. “Do you think they can help?”

Jim shrugged. “They may know of something going on. A serial kidnapper or some rumors of disappearing children. It’s worth checking out.”

Blair spoke up. “We’ll make a few phone calls, see if anyone knows anything. If you can get a list of neighbors and children John plays with, maybe we can talk to them too.”

Peter nodded. “Robert and I are booked for Seattle in the morning.” He looked at Ellison’s surprised expression. “We didn’t want to hang around if you couldn’t help. And if you could help, we were hoping that you would be with us.”

“That’s a little fast for us. We have to clear our own schedules, get reservations, etc. Dr. Sandburg has to clear his calendar at the university. I need to brief the detectives that will be taking over our caseload while we’re gone, and make sure my being gone won’t interfere with a court case.”

“Will you call me as soon as you know when you’ll be in Seattle?” Robert looked at Peter, who nodded. “Peter is continuing on to Alaska tomorrow. He’ll keep an eye on the investigation there. If it’s all right with you, I’ll wait and fly up on the same flight that you take. Maybe by then we’ll have a little more information to share.”

Ellison and Sandburg nodded. The four fell silent for a second. Blair finally looked at Jim with a question in his eyes. Jim sighed and nodded, knowing what Sandburg had on his mind. But the words out of Sandburg’s mouth surprised him.

“Robert, you said earlier that when you found your son’s jacket, there was a land otter’s tail around the sleeve, and that it was meant to be a warning. Who do you know within your family or social group that would use a legend like that against you?”

“I don’t know. Hadn’t thought about it really. When we found John’s jacket with that on it, our reaction was more ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ then taking it seriously.”

“Have you found anything else that might be interpreted by someone as a ‘sign’ of something supernatural?”

Peter answered the question. “The ring of mussel shells on the deck the other morning contained the note, with a seagull feather in the center.”

“So someone is watching the home.” Jim commented.

Robert shook his head. “I didn’t look at it that way. Dana got real upset when she saw it, and swept it off. I thought it was a local kid playing, and the kidnappers took advantage of the location.”

“Would your wife claim to be superstitious? Would she believe in the legends? Enough to try to persuade you to do what the kidnappers asked?”

“I don’t think so. But rumors fly in small communities, you know that. Someone could take the threat to my son as a sign that we need to change our ways of living, start making noises about the old ways are the best ways.”

The tribal shaman looked at his friend. “Robert, most of our children are college educated now. We have computers in the schools, electricity and running water. Even the oldest of the elders agree that things are better. We just need to keep our heritage alive by teaching the good things in our culture.”

“Peter, even your own son says that we’re moving too fast and losing to much. He opposed all the logging done in the last few years. He’s one of the most vocal ones in the community against a lot of the changes that are happening.”

“I know that, Robert. But his beliefs don’t stop him from taking advantage of opportunity. He has a commercial fishing permit, a boat. He may say and believe one thing, but his actions point to the opposite.”

Ellison interrupted them. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, this sounds like an old argument. Why don’t we can this discussion until later?” He got up and offered his hand again. “We’ll call as soon as we know when we can be in Seattle.”

Good-byes were hastily exchanged and Ellison and Sandburg made their leave. The two men got back in the truck and sat looking at the hotel for a moment. They finally exchanged glances.

“Did you pick up anything unusual?” Sandburg finally asked. Jim started the engine and shook his head.

“No.” They pulled out in the street. “Your car is at the station, isn’t it?”

Blair nodded.

“Let’s go get it. I’ll drop you off, then I need to talk to Joel for a minute.”

“While you do that, I’ll start making phone calls.”

**********************

Jim unlocked the loft and stepped inside, hearing focused on the fast typing coming from Blair’s office. His lover was on the phone, hands banging away on the keyboard.

“Hey Chief, I’m home.” He tossed his keys on the table and headed for the kitchen, his nose leading him to the steaming crock pot. He lifted the lid and inhaled deeply. He felt the smaller man slip his arms around his waist from the back and the firm body press against him in a hug.

“Clam chowder. What brought that on?” Jim turned within the embrace and wrapped his arms around the sturdy shoulders.

“Don’t know. I just knew the sandwich we had hours ago wore off and I was starving. There are sourdough rolls in the oven, keeping warm, and a salad in the ‘fridge.”

“Smells good. And you’re right, that sandwich didn’t last. I’m starved.” Jim’s hands slid to the pockets of Blair’s jeans and gripped the worn fabric. Blair mirrored the embrace.

“Great. Grab some bowls, I’ll get the bread. ” Hugs momentarily dropped, they turned their attention to food. They moved around the kitchen, fixing their meal and making small talk as they ate.

Blair fixed them coffee as they settled on the couch.

“So, what did you find out?”Jim sipped his coffee.  Perfect.

“Quite a bit, actually. Wales Logging has been in business for ten years, employs 25 people, all native Alaskans, and successfully lobbied for a $25 million logging contract.

“And Blackburn?”

“Just what he said he is. His family is well known in the area, and the Blackburn name has a history. His mother was a mid-wife and healer, his father, the village shaman until his death. Peter’s wife, Ruth, is a mid-wife and nurse practitioner. One son, Daniel, who is a commercial fisherman. So their stories check out.”

“I talked to a couple of the logging companies in the area, but nobody mentioned any problems. They knew that the boy was missing and offered any help they could give. Most of them had already talked to the Alaska State police. I called some of the environmental groups and immediately got the standard logging argument, so that wasn’t much help.”

Jim sipped his coffee. “Did you get to talk to anyone in Seattle?”

Blair ruffled through his notes, nodding. “Talked to the local police. Yes, they were aware that the boy was missing. No, nobody had asked them to investigate. No, there hasn’t been any other children reported missing in the area where the Agawaik’s live. Yes, they will be happy to talk to us if we are in Seattle. Please contact Detective O’Malley at the Tacoma precinct for any additional help.”

Jim leaned back, put his arm over the back of the couch, and after a moment grabbed Blair’s shirt collar and pulled him back to rest against his arm, letting his fingers twirl a lock of hair. He listened to his partner’s voice with a smile, while absorbing the texture of the silky curls through his fingers.

Blair reached up, grabbed Jim’s wandering hand that was stroking an earlobe. Between pulling on the arm around his shoulders and sliding himself tighter against his partner’s side, he got the hand to his lips and kissed the palm, then began licking and sucking on the pads of each finger. His eyes met Jim’s and he smiled around the thumb in his mouth before pulling it free. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Now what do you want to do?” He nibbled on a finger.

Jim smiled at his guide, eyes already dilated as he watched the younger man lick and suck on each finger, his jeans suddenly much too tight to be comfortable.“I think I want to take you upstairs and you can tell me all about Alaska legends and tribal folklore.” He leaned over, kissed the warm mouth that welcomed him. Blair’s hands came up; one wrapped around Jim’s head to hold him tight, the other burrowed into Jim’s shirt.

“I like that idea. Let me shut down my computer.” Blair breathed into Jim’s open mouth, licked across the plush lips.

“I’ll lock up.”

*********

Midnight found Blair asleep in front of his laptop, screen saver dancing. Upstairs, Jim rolled over, one arm out flung. The searching arm and hand only found empty sheets and the absence of his bed partner jolted him awake.

He rubbed his eyes and then rolled over and stared through the railing. Blair’s curl covered head rested on a robed arm. Jim shook his head and crawled out of bed, reaching for his robe. He padded down the stairs and crossed to the dining table.

“Chief, come on, you need some sleep.” He touched the mouse and looked at the revealed screen. A website on Alaska history filled the screen and Jim took a second to scroll through the site, amazed at some of the topics. He logged off and shut down the machine, then shook Blair’s shoulder again. “Wake up, Chief, so you can go to bed.”

“Why do you have to wake someone up, just so they can go back to sleep?” he grumbled as he sat up, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Your other option is for me to carry you up the stairs and I might drop you or throw out my back. How would that look if we had to call Simon and back out of this case?”

“Pretty pathetic.” Blair let Jim push him toward the stairs, then accepted the push from behind as he stumbled upward. He snuggled under the Jim-warmed comforter and was snoring before Jim could pull his glasses off his face and place them on the nightstand. Then he draped himself over and around Sandburg’s body and went back to sleep.

_Blair walked a beach, idly throwing stones into the crashing white water. A wolf leaned against a tree stump, tongue hanging from its open mouth. Sandburg stopped and looked at the wolf._

_“Why are you here?” he called to the canine._

_The wolf yawned, then got up. It trotted into the woods and disappeared._

Blair turned over and curled into Jim’s body while he slept on.

*************************************

Simon glanced up through his open office door as Jim Ellison strolled in. His detective was smiling gently, carrying a large cup of coffee as he sat down at his desk. Simon shook his head, smiling to himself as he went back to his paperwork.

This Ellison was a completely changed individual from the one Simon Banks knew four years ago. An ex-Army Ranger, ex-vice cop, tough as nails, take-no-prisoners detective had been miraculously reborn as an easy-going, good-natured human being by one long-haired anthropologist who refused to be bullied and over-whelmed. Simon would not have believed it possible if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

Jim knocked on the doorframe of Simon’s office before entering. “Morning, Simon.”

“Jim.” Simon pulled off his glasses, nodded toward his coffee bar, quietly acknowledging Jim’s empty coffee cup. He waited until Jim poured his coffee and settled into a chair before inquiring as to the way his morning was going.

“Except for a half dozen phone calls from various university professors and Peter Blackburn, it was quiet.”

“Sounds like your significant other started his day early.”

“Five a.m., Simon. I never realized how important Sandburg was to the university until he got the professorship. Now every time I turn around, somebody needs his advice, his help, or a staff meeting is being called.”

“And of course you were completely understanding. What was Blackburn’s call?”

“Just confirming that he and Agawaik were heading back to Seattle. We met with them briefly late yesterday afternoon.” Jim outlined the brief meeting as he and Simon shared coffee.

********

Sandburg yawned into his coffee cup and looked at the stack of notes printed from the web. He glanced at the clock on the wall then smiled at the name plate on his desk. For the hundredth time he picked up and turned the small triangular wood piece over and read the inscription.

_“Knew you could do it, Professor. Doctor of my heart. Keeper of my soul. Jim.”_

Blair placed it back into its spot on the almost clean desk and went back to stuffing his pack full of his notes. He’d spent the morning office hours researching everything he could find on logging and fishing in the panhandle of Alaska. His research covered everything from Russian days to current times. He was putting together a rough idea. Now he had to explain his reasoning to Jim and Simon. He checked his calendar again, double checking that everything he was leaving behind was covered for his anticipated absence. As he walked toward his car, he mentally went back over everything he’d been working on. His phone calls to various old acquaintances from his activists’ days had only revealed some of the things the old ‘gang’ were into. Spiking trees was real popular, sugar in gas tanks, spare parts disappearing for cutting equipment, that sort of thing, was as violent as the protesters got. The idea of endangering a child was repulsive to the group and each phone call had promised assistance in every way possible. Sandburg crossed them off his list of suspects. He and Jim had crossed off competing logging companies yesterday. So, what did that leave? He thought about it as he drove toward the police headquarters. He thought about it some more as the elevator took him to the seventh floor.

Sandburg smiled at his partner who was on the phone as he dropped his backpack on the floor next to his desk. Jim returned the smile, which made Blair’s that much bigger. Blair took a second to admire the tall man he considered his life mate. Jim always struck him as an out of place model when he wore a maroon turtleneck underneath a soft black sweater. It made Sandburg want to climb under the soft fabric and meld himself to the turtleneck, knowing that the turtleneck was melded to Jim’s chest. The black jeans outlined the muscles in the long legs and just knowing that Ellison was commando only made Blair’s mouth water more. If the rest of Major Crime knew that underneath the calm exterior lived an extrovert dying to get out…

“How has your morning been?” Jim hung up the phone and looked at Blair. The teacher’s heart rate was up slightly and his eyes were dilated. Jim shook his head and mouthed ‘Down boy’ to his lover. Which only made Blair blush and drop his head. Jim grinned delightedly at the spreading redness across Blair’s cheeks and necks.

“It was good.” Sandburg mumbled, flopping down in the seat next to Jim’s desk. “Made a bunch of phone calls.” He tried not to look at his smirking lover.

“Learn anything helpful?”

“Enough to make me start thinking about a few things.” Blair finally looked up at Jim and relaxed a little when the smile that turned his knees to water wasn’t there.

“Like what?” Jim picked up another report he needed to initial and skimmed it quickly. As soon as he was done, he turned his full attention to his partner.

“Like what you keep telling me is the most important thing to consider when investigating a kidnapping.”

“And that is?” Jim prompted.

“Who benefits from the payoff? What is the true motive?” Blair picked up a pen off of the desk and started twirling it between his fingers.

Jim nodded. “Follow the money, Chief. Nine times out of ten it works.”

“So, who would benefit if Wales Logging went under?” Blair looked at his partner, eyes wide with the question. Jim smirked at him and pulled a file folder out of a pile and handed it over.

“You’re not the only one who was making phone calls and asking questions this morning, Chief.”

Sandburg took the file and skimmed down through the rows of names and figures, all in Jim’s neat print. After a few moments of studying it, he realized that each column was headed with a clan name. Under each clan name was a listing of business or boat names. Beside each name were two figures. Some had minus signs in front of them, others, plus symbols. Blair looked at Jim with questions in his eyes.

Jim leaned back in his seat and looked at the ceiling. “A long time ago before I rebelled from my father’s teachings, he tried to explain to me how to run a business. And one of those things he said were you had to make more than you spend. I still remember that statement.” Jim pulled his eyes from the ceiling and looked at his surprised partner. Jim nodded toward the sheet. “If those were a list of businesses, how many are making money?”

Blair looked at his partner, then back to the sheet. “I didn’t know you remembered anything your father said,” he whispered, eyes firmly on the paper.

“Some things stick, Chief, no matter how much you try to forget.” Jim’s voice was a low mumble. He turned back to his computer screen, forcibly dropping the subject. Sandburg studied the sheet for a few minutes. “If I was an accountant, I’d think that the minus signs means losses. The question is, is this a one time occurrence or part of a larger pattern?”

“Give the man a cigar.” Jim murmured. He tapped a few more keys and looked at his screen. “From what I can determine, the names are related to several businesses. The first column show profit/minus figures for families in the logging industry, the second column for fishing industry. The families with all pluses have been in the logging business for years, the families with all minuses, mostly fishing, single boat operations. The families with both are involved with both.” Jim reached over, took the paper. “What I don’t know is how far this goes back. This is the last two years IRS information.”

Sandburg looked at his partner. “How did you get this? Tax returns are confidential.”

Jim gave Blair a thin-lipped smile. “I have my sources. You’ll notice that Wales Logging is on that list, so is Daniel Blackburn. And here’s another interesting fact – Blackburn has a new boat, but he hasn’t shown a profit fishing in three years.”

“You’re not the only one with some interesting information to share.” Blair dug through his pack and pulled out a few sheets. “According to a lot of newspaper articles, some fisheries information, some public hearings, and a lot of letters to the editors, a group of fisherman, mostly under 35 have been making noises about how the logging industry has been destroying the salmon streams by over logging and destroying the watershed. They have been making enough noise that they’ve actually got some local legislation in the mill and some pretty high priced political sponsors. The elders in the clans seem to think that this generation are mostly hotheads that want to get rich quick. Guess who heads up this group of ‘hotheads’?”

Jim snatched the sheet and stared at it. He saw Blackburn’s name at once. He started comparing names and found more. The majority of the names on both lists showed minuses on Jim’s sheet. He looked back at Blair. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Blair nodded. “But we don’t have any evidence. We’re just assuming. We need to talk to Robert, and Peter, and a few of these ‘hotheads’.”

“I think we need to talk to Simon, then to the Alaska State Troopers, see what they know, or suspect. See if there is any connection between the fishing industry, the logging industry and the child’s disappearance.”

“And just how are we going to investigate that? On what grounds? We’re way out of our jurisdiction. How do we start?” Sandburg was quietly intense, his blue eyes focused on Jim.

Frustration was all over Ellison’s face. He knew that his partner was right. He shook his head. “Let’s go bounce this off Simon, see if he has any ideas.”

Blair pushed to his feet. “That’s why they pay him the big bucks, right?”

Jim nodded. “Something like that.”

Before they could approach Simon’s office, Rhonda blocked their path. She dropped two travel vouchers on Jim’s desk, along with two plane tickets to Seattle and then on to Alaska, courtesy of the FBI.

She looked at the detective as Jim thumbed through the documents. “What are you into now, Detective Ellison?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because Simon has chewed the end off his second cigar this morning and the returned phone calls are from some really strange places.”

“Like?”

“Juneau, Alaska, for one and someplace named Klawock. Plus the feds have been bugging him. If the feds are bothering him, it makes me nervous.”

“Me too, Rhonda.” Jim noted the date and time on the tickets; tomorrow morning, 7 a.m. He handed the tickets to Blair. Rhonda cleared her throat, not ready to be dismissed quite yet. Jim looked up at her, eyebrows rising in question.

“Why Alaska?”

“Rhonda, you know I do consulting work for other departments and agencies, with Simon’s blessing.” He nodded toward Blair. “Where I go, my partner goes.”

The secretary looked at the detective and teacher. “This is one of those ‘need to know’ things, isn’t it?” She sighed dramatically.

Jim grinned at her, winked. “Got it in one.”

“Just don’t get killed. Life around here would be very boring without you and Blair.”

Jim picked up his truck from the covered parking and they headed home, Blair behind him in the Volvo. The afternoon was rapidly turning into evening and all the team had to show for the day were more questions than answers. At the apartment building, Blair checked their mailbox while Jim pushed the button for the elevator, then shook his head and started up the stairs. Blair sorted through the mail as he followed his partner up the stairs, grumbling about the number of trees killed for all the junk mail they accumulated.

Jim unlocked the door, waited for his partner to enter, then closed and locked it behind them. "What sounds good for dinner?"

Blair shrugged, peeling off his jacket. "There's some left over pasta in the 'fridge, and I think we've got enough veggies to make a salad." He dropped his keys into the basket, heeled off his shoes.

Jim went around him, heading for the 'fridge and a couple of beers. Blair's hand on his arm turned him back and he was suddenly engulfed in strong arms. "We haven't had five minutes all day, love." He reached up and pulled Jim into a kiss. Jim returned it with gusto, only pulling away when he needed air in his starving lungs. Blair was already worming his hands under Jim's tee shirt, fingers lightly scratching the smooth flesh.

Jim slid his hands down Blair's back, cupped the firm ass. "Guess this means dinner will have to wait."

"Works for me." He grinned and wriggled free of Jim's embrace, grabbing a hand and pulling his lover up the stairs. When they got there, he pushed the larger man into the bed and then crawled up the sprawled body until he could lie on Jim's chest and kiss him while one hand played in the short hair and the other slid under the soft black sweater. Jim had his hands wrapped in Blair's hair, freeing it from the pony tail it'd been in all day and carding the chestnut strands lose before grabbing fistfuls of it to hold the head still so he could pull his lips free for a second and nibble on the strong chin, lick the stubble of day old beard. Blair arched his head, offering his neck to Jim's mouth. Jim latched onto the Adams apple, sucked on it long enough to leave a strawberry mark before running his tongue up the carotid artery on his way to a jeweled ear.

"Missed you all day. You know that? Missed you even when you're next to me when I can't touch you." Blair was whispering as Jim continued to torment the neck and ear. "Your tongue is so talented, you could make me come just with your mouth."

Jim pulled away, reached for Blair's shirt. "Don't want that, now do we?" Blair’s eyes were on his partner’s, “No.” He backed away enough so Jim could pull off his shirt. Clothes started flying around the room and over the railing as they stripped each other and fell against each other, mouths glued together.

Hours later Jim stirred from the sated sleep he'd fallen into and eased out from under the warm body draped over him. He needed a shower, they both did. But he was warm and comfortable, the bed was soft, the loft was silent. His bedmate had managed to snag the comforter before dozing off and was now wrapped in its softness, snoring softly. He really didn't want to move and was arguing with himself about how necessary a shower was when his stomach demanded some attention. That settled that argument: he never won an argument with his stomach. He eased from the bed and found a robe before padding barefoot down the stairs. On the way to the bathroom, he glanced at the VCR clock, almost midnight. Maybe a shower, then a light snack, before returning to the warmth upstairs.

The sound of water running pulled Blair from his sleep and he blinked sleepily at the empty bed. He finally reached for the nightstand and his glasses to look at the clock. Midnight. Midnight? Why was he awake at midnight? The water turned off and he listened to the shower curtain being pulled back, the sound of a towel being dragged over a towel bar. One thing about living with a Sentinel, you found yourself extending your own senses, trying to hear further, hear more, and analyze each sound. Like barefeet on tile, opening a medicine cabinet door, squeaky sounds of a mirror being wiped off. He tossed the covers off himself, found his robe and struggled into it as he stumbled down the stairs. He was suddenly hungry and wondered if Jim would like a snack.

Jim came out of the bathroom, rubbing his thin hair with a towel and stopped to stare at his partner who was chopping vegetables on the counter, a bowl of shredded lettuce at his elbow. The teakettle was singing and he pulled it off the burner, pouring hot water into two mugs, humming to himself as he did. Jim made sure he made some noise as he approached, the last thing he wanted to do was startle Blair while he held a large knife in his hand. Blair looked up with a smile and pushed the mug toward him.

"I left you some hot water."

"Thanks, I appreciate that. For some strange reason I didn't get any dinner and I'm suddenly ravenous. Wonder why?" He dumped the chopped vegetables into the bowl of lettuce added a salad dressing and tossed it all together.

Jim sipped the hot tea, inhaled the orange and cinnamon steam. "I wouldn't know. Could it have anything to do with you dragging someone upstairs and having his way with said someone, instead of eating?"

"Could be. You want some garlic bread with this, or will the croutons be enough?"

"This is fine. You want to heat up some of the pasta or freeze it for when we get back.

"Save it." He grabbed two bowls off a shelf and carried them to the table along with silverware, while Jim brought the salad and their mugs of tea. They settled down to their midnight snack with gusto. For several minutes the only sound in the loft were the two men mowing through the salad, emptying the container completely before pushing their bowls away.

Blair looked into his empty mug, then into his partner's blue eyes. "Think I'll take a shower."

Jim nodded, said he'd clean up and lock up for the night.

Clean again and curled next to Jim, Sandburg's mind wouldn't shut off as he replayed the events of the day. He could tell Jim wasn't asleep either. He rolled over, tucked his head on Jim's shoulder and stared at the ceiling.

"You got any ideas for a suspect?"

"I think we don't have anybody we can call a suspect, Chief. No ransom demands, just a demand not to log, which would affect Robert and anybody who works for him. No witnesses to the kidnapping, just a missing child and almost no clues." He turned on his side, slid Blair's head to his arm, and draped the other arm over his chest. Finally the warmth and stillness pulled them into sleep.

******************


	2. Following the Clues

Chapter 2

Jim settled into his aisle seat, stretching his legs as best as he was able. Blair was squeezed into the seat next to the window, where he firmly pulled the window shade. The little Dash-8 only took 40 minutes to Seattle

“You okay, Chief?” Jim wrapped his hand around his partner’s offering some comfort with his presence.

“You know me, Jim. I just hate flying. I’ll get over it - one of these days.”

“Uh, huh.” Jim unfolded a file folder in his lap, setting it over their joined hands. Simple solution to a situation that might make a passenger or flight crew uncomfortable. Together they went through everything that they had put together during two long days of research. For all their work, it was still mostly conjecture, assumptions and pieces of data that didn’t completely mesh together.

“What’s our plan once we get to Seattle?” Blair was studying a summary of fishing quotas for the past five years, trying to see some logic in all the numbers.

Jim shrugged his shoulders. “Pick up a car, drive to Tacoma and talk to… who was it again?”

“Detective O’Malley.” Blair supplied the name without looking up.

“…Detective O’Malley and see if he has any insight that we haven’t already tapped. Then we’ll meet Robert at his warehouse, talk to him for a few minutes, follow him to his home, meet the wife. If we have time, I want to talk to the neighbors. Then we catch a plane north.” Jim looked out the window in front of him.

“Is there a stop for food in there somewhere?” Blair grinned at his lover.

“Hey Chief, you got so involved in what you were doing we took off without you noticing.” He grinned at the surprised expression on the younger man’s face.

Blair glanced out, back at his partner. He squeezed the hand wrapped around his. “Thanks Jim. That was sneaky. Smart, but sneaky.”

Jim laughed and let go of Blair’s hand, accepting coffee as the flight attendant offered a thermos and Styrofoam cups. “You said you dreamed of your spirit guide. You didn’t tell me what you learned.”

Blair accepted his own Styrofoam cup. “I don’t know if I can honestly say I learned anything. It’s hard to understand visions; they’re all subject to interpretation. What if my interpretation is wrong?”

“So tell me about it and maybe together we’ll figure it out.”

Blair finished his coffee, glanced out the window with a refrained shudder then firmly looked away, eyes intent on his lover’s face. “I was in an arctic rainforest. There were huge trees covered with moss and clumps of devils club and ferns. Wolf was sitting next to a stump, not one from where a tree had fallen in a storm, but one freshly cut. I could smell the sawdust but the tree wasn’t there. I looked up and there was a raven perched on another tree. The bird took off and we followed it. The bird led us to a salmon stream. The salmon were so thick you could walk across them. While I watched, a cut tree fell across the stream. As soon as the tree hit the water, the fish disappeared. Wolf nosed around the edge of the stream and brought me a land otter’s tail. Then the raven took off and Wolf chased it.”

“That’s it? From the way you were breathing and the way your eyes were moving, I thought you’d been dreaming for ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Jim,” Blair sighed, hands rubbing his eyes. “You’ve communicated with a spirit animal enough to know time changes in a vision. It either slows down or speeds up. I thought I’d been on the spirit plane for an hour or two, not minutes.”

“What do you think it means?”

“The obvious interpretation is if the trees are cut, the salmon will die. That’s pretty straightforward. The appearance of a raven also suggests that someone with a spirit animal is involved.”

“How so?”

“My first thought is that whoever is involved with the kidnapping can also contact the spirit plane. He may be another clan’s shaman. Or from a family of shamans. In Tlingit mythology, the Raven is the deceiver, the liar, and can’t be trusted.”

Jim thought about that for a moment. “You think Peter is involved?”

Blair shrugged and sipped his coffee. “Or maybe he knows who is involved, or suspects someone.”

"Chief, you said your spirit guide pointed out that the logging killed the fish. How?"

"From what I can find out, the argument against logging is by destroying the old growth forests, the loggers are impacting the spawning streams. I'm not sure how, some say the logging operations pollute the streams, others say the water temperature increases when the trees are cut and there is no buffer to shade the streams."

Jim looked at his coffee cup. "So, if logging is destroying the fishing, then the fishing industry is the ultimate loser. Trees grow back. But destroy a spawning stream and the fish are gone forever."

"So you're saying?"

Jim shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m saying yet.” Jim looked out the window, thinking of the list of names and the amount of money that the fishermen didn’t make.

*******************

The sign proclaiming “Wales Logging” was faded like the gray walls it was attached to. The truck size door underneath the faded letters was partially open, the cab of a flat bed truck protruding from under the foam rubber edge.

Blair pushed open the door to the rented sedan and climbed out, looking at the dilapidated building. He looked over the roof of the car as Jim unfolded his lean form out the other side.

“Doesn’t look like much, does it?”

Jim shrugged. “Warehouses don’t look like much from the outside in a lot of cases. But if the inside is as bad -” he let the statement drop.

The man-size door was unlocked and they pushed it open, the sound of their feet on the concrete floor deadened by layers of sawdust. Jim sneezed and Blair rubbed the detective’s shoulder, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim light in the cavernous room. Jim rubbed his nose, finally getting his breathing under control, then looked around.

The building contained rows of saw and conveyor belts, stacks of boards along one wall that reached high enough to partially block the light from a dust covered window. There was an office suspended from a metal catwalk, accessible by a metal stairway against the far corner. The door to the upper office opened and a shaft of fluorescent light cut across the dust filled building and cast a square of yellow light on the floor. The light was blocked as a short stocky man stepped through the open doorway and his shadow was elongated onto the floor.

“Detective Ellison, Professor Sandburg, come on up.” Robert Agawaik’s voice greeted them.

Jim pressed Blair’s shoulder gently, urging the smaller man in front of him upward. He kept his contact with his partner letting him know that he was safe as they climbed the metal stairs, the floor disappearing into the dim light.

Agawaik’s office fit a logging operation. The walls were decorated with photos of various logging sites, aerial maps and clipboards containing sheets of log counts and equipment inventory. The metal desk was dented and splattered with rust stains, but the top was clean and empty except for a phone, in box and calendar desk pad.

Agawaik shook both visitors' hands. “Glad you came.” He waved them to the sagging torn black leather chairs. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee?”

Both men shook their heads and Agawaik leaned against his desk, hands gripping the metal edge until his knuckles were white. He looked the part of a logger; heavy jeans and boots, plaid blue flannel shirt speckled with sawdust. His dark eyes were bright and the face didn’t reveal his age as almost fifty, even though his hair was streaked with gray.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about who would stand to gain something if I didn’t log this summer and went under. Honestly, there are several other logging companies who would move in and take over the contract. Any one of those would be better off without me around. And you already have that list, plus the environmental groups. Besides them,” he shrugged, “I don’t know. It’s a pretty short list.”

“Anybody that might be after you or your wife, personally? Old debts? Ex-spouse? Lovers?”  Ellison questioned.

Robert Agawaik dropped his head, then shook it. “No.” He went around his desk and dropped into the cracked brown vinyl chair behind it. “My family lives in a very small community in the summer months. Everybody knows everybody and everybody’s business, Detective. It’s impossible to keep secrets. So, if you value your reputation, you walk the straight and narrow.”

“What about Blackburn?”

“What about him, Detective Ellison?” Agawaik frowned at the police officer.

“Would he have anything to gain if your company went under?”

Robert sighed and shook his head. “Peter is my friend. His family and my family have been as close as two families can be without being blood related. If I go under, he’ll try to help as much as he can.”

Blair jotted something down, looked at his notes. “Did he tell you about the vision? The one which led him to us?”

Robert leaned back in his chair, looked at the teacher. “Yes. He’s the tribal shaman. I’ve never but much faith in dreams, visions, whatever you want to call them. But you’re here.” Robert shrugged. “What does that say about my beliefs?”

“What about your wife? Does she believe in dreams? Would Peter have told her about his dreams?”

“I don’t understand why you’re asking so many questions about Peter. Is he a suspect?”

Jim spoke up. “No, Robert, he’s not. Dr. Sandburg was just curious. It’s not everyday that you’re approached by someone who tells you a wolf brought him to you to tell you about a kidnapped boy. You have to admit, it’s a strange story that turned out to be true.” He didn’t want Agawaik to feel like he was being asked to break an old friend’s confidence.

“We all grow up on the old stories, Professor Sandburg. Some of us believe, some of us don’t and some of us treat them like fairy tales.”

“Which camp do you fall in?” Sandburg studied the man intently, trying to feel his way around the man’s wariness.

“I don’t know. I’ve seen a lot of things I can’t accept in the scientific world, but I’m also a realist. The only way my people will survive is to move forward. Granted there are some who still want the old ways and tell the ‘I remember when’ with great fondness. But for every story that shows us as a healthy and thriving nation, there is another one about famine and starvation.”

Blair glanced at Jim, who seemed to be content to let him ask the questions while he concentrated on his own skills in determining the truth in Agawaik’s words. “Would it be too much trouble to see your son’s room, talk to your wife?”

“We thought you’d want to. Can’t leave a stone unturned, right?” Robert tried to smile at the implication he was making. “Dana wanted me to invite you for lunch. She wanted to meet the people Peter said could help, even if they aren’t from Alaska.” He opened a desk drawer and took out a map, sliding it across the desk to Ellison. “Come on up in about an hour.”

“Thank you, we will.” Jim stood up and shook the logger’s hand, feeling the hard leather palm of someone who had done hard physical labor all his life. Blair did the same, then they let themselves out of the small office and carefully down the metal stairs. They waited until they were in the rental car before Blair asked the obvious question.

“What did you pick up?”

“Not much. His heart spiked when we asked about Blackburn, but I don’t know if that means we caught him off guard or if he has his own suspicions.”

“Well, we’ve got an hour to kill, what do you want to do?”

Jim fired the engine and looked at his partner. “How about we find a coffee shop and sample the local wares? Then we can find a quiet corner in a park somewhere, and sample each other’s drinks?” He stroked down Blair’s jean covered thigh with a predatory smile.

Blair grinned. “You are so wicked, Jim. Let’s go.”

***********************

They found the house without too much trouble. It was located in an old section of town, mostly small houses with fenced yards and big trees. It was a two-story log cabin, with a gravel driveway, leading to a detached two-car garage. The house was old enough to have thick moss on some of the logs and the shake roof was green from mold and weeds. Jim slammed the car door and looked at the house, then back at his smaller partner.

“Doesn’t look like a home with a well-heeled owner. How old do you think it is?”

“Early 1900’s maybe. I’m not an architect, Jim. But it takes a long time for moss to grow that thick on treated logs.”

The heavy door opened when they stepped onto the porch and a gray haired woman beckoned them inside. “Welcome to my home, Detective Ellison, Dr. Sandburg. I’m Dana Agawaik. Robert called; he’ll be here in a few minutes. Please come in.”” She led them into the living room, then through to the kitchen.

Dana Agawaik did not wear her age well. Her flat features were heavily lined, hair iron gray and tied back, hanging long down her back. She was stocky and shorter than her husband, underneath the jeans and flannel shirt.

Blair studied the interior as they followed their hostess. The rooms smelled of cedar logs and oiled wood. The wood floors were covered with oriental rugs and the wood around the edges of the rugs was highly polished and scratchless. The walls reflected the owners’ cultural heritage, masks and carvings each occupied a place of honor and were grouped in clusters all over the walls. One wall was covered with a Tlingit blanket. Blair’s fingers itched to touch and stroke many of the items. If the items were real, many were of museum quality. The furniture blended into the wood walls and bear, fox and wolf skins draped the hall between living room and kitchen. The kitchen/dining room reflected that it was an old home, with modern appliances retrofitted to the room. Dana motioned them to sit at the Formica covered table covered with platters of cold cuts and other sandwich makings.

"I didn't know if you would like tea or coffee, or sodas. I know most visitors that come to Seattle immediately think of coffee so I made a fresh pot. And there are some herbal teas." She tried smiling at her guests, hands wringing nervously as she stood before the detective, face tilted up to meet the blue eyes.

"Coffee is fine, Mrs. Agawaik. Why don't you just point us to the pot and we'll take care of it?" Jim smiled at her, immediately wanting to ease the nerves that were making her hands fly. He glanced over to Blair and immediately Sandburg was at the counter, pulling three mugs off the stack and fixing his and Jim's.

"How do you like your coffee, Mrs. Agawaik?" He forced his voice to be as cheerful as possible, with a little of the lower octave he used when he was 'guiding' Jim.

“Black, Dr. Sandburg." She turned to Blair as he finished pouring the mugs and helped him carry them to the table. "Please, make yourself a sandwich. Robert didn't know what you liked, so I just did what I do when a bunch of the loggers come charging in. If you're not careful, they'll eat you out of house and home."

"Thank you for the kindness." Jim broke the ice by grabbing two thick slices of sourdough bread and a knife to dip into the jar of mayonnaise. Blair pulled out a chair for their hostess and with a smile, offered it to her. She looked at the younger man for a long moment, then seated herself, and sipped her coffee.

Jim finished making his sandwich and sat down. "Your husband said you found your son's jacket when he disappeared. Want to tell me what happened?"

Her hands started wringing again and she watched them as she told of missing her child, the search by the neighbors in the area, and finding his jacket, wet and cold, the land otter's tail twisted around the sleeve. Her screams had brought everyone within earshot and they had looked at the jacket, then headed for the shoreline, searching the beach and rocks, looking under fallen trees and piles of washed up logs. They had searched until nightfall before Robert called them back.

The next day Robert called the authorities, and started the search again. Her story slid to a stop.

“You have any opinions on who took your son?” Ellison asked. Dana looked at her visitors, eyes narrowed.

"The kidnappers said they won't harm him as long as we do as they say. All the old stories say that the only way someone escapes from a kushtaka is by having the will to ignore their ways and the strength to find their own way home. While I don’t believe in the old stories, whoever took my son does." The last statement faded away as the tears ran down her face

"Or they believe that you and Robert believe in the old stories. Do you know anyone who talks to you about the tribal legends?” Blair finished his sandwich, added several slices of apple to his plate. Jim looked at the small selection of food and added a handful of chips to his partner's plate, which earned him a glare.

Dana thought for a moment, then shook her head. "During logging seasons, we hold potlatches and clan gatherings. We teach the children the old stories, like you would tell a child a fairy tale. Some of us are better storytellers than others. Peter is really good, but Daniel, his son, really gets into telling the kids stories. He gets up and dances around, acts them out. He should have been an actor instead of a fisherman.”

“If you were going to kidnap a child, where would you hide him?”

Mrs. Agawaik shook her head. "I don't think a white man would hold a kidnapped child on the island. A white man would find a way to take him off the island, hide him someplace strange." Her black eyes had drifted to a window that looked into a yard containing a huge tree with a tire swing. The men remained silent as she stared out the window, then seemingly shook herself. Her gaze went from one man to another. "Can you find my son?"

"We're going to try our best." Blair hastened to reassure the mother, touched her arm briefly. "Can we see his room?"

She nodded and beckoned for them to follow her up a narrow staircase off of the dining room, their tread softened by a runner of dark brown carpet as they climbed. She pushed open a brightly painted door and stepped aside so they could enter.

Jim stepped across the threshold first. At first glance, John's room looked like any other 10-year-old boy's. Models of various planes hung from a ceiling corner, a bookcase contained an assortment of books, puzzles and games. A child size desk contained a computer. The single bed was covered in a comforter decorated with sailing ships. The open closet revealed an assortment of jeans and shirts, sneakers and boots on the floor underneath. There were posters of various teenage girls from music groups Jim didn't recognize, movie posters advertising Jurassic Park and Godzilla.

Blair's eyes went to the poster over the headboard, and the small grouping of figurines on the nightstand. A black wolf with bold yellow eyes stared back at him from over the bed. The figurines were a family of wolves, carved from yellow cedar, like the one in his coat pocket. He fished out the wolf and compared the statues, finally calling Jim's attention. Jim knelt down and looked at the carvings, rose and took Blair's from his hand.

"Mrs. Agawaik, who carved the wolves?"

"Peter. He's quite skilled, don't you think?"

He placed Blair's carving in her hand. "Peter brought Sandburg this one as a way of introduction."

She looked at the wolf, finally placed it back in the detective's hand. "Peter said the wolf was a very powerful guardian and it would guard John as he grew up. John was fascinated by the tales Peter told about wolves and demanded he have one. Of course, it's not feasible here. But he has a half-wolf friend in Alaska he visits when he is there."

Jim motioned to the grouping. "Is one missing?"

She studied the group of five, shook her head. "I don't know."

Blair stroked the adult wolf carving with one finger. "Were these carved from tree blessed by a shaman?"

The native woman shrugged. "I know the shamans used to bless the trees used for canoes and long houses, but I don't know about this. But I can give you Peter's number and you can call him. He would know."

"He gave us his number when your husband and Peter came to Cascade."

They were interrupted by the sound of a slamming door and Robert's voice calling his wife's name. They met him at the bottom of the stairs Robert hugged his wife for a moment before greeting Jim and Blair again. "Did seeing his room help any?"

"It just let us get a better feeling for the boy. We would also like a recent picture if you don't mind."

Dana nodded and disappeared into the living room, returning with a photo album. She placed it on the dining table and flipped through it quickly, finally pausing to lift out a snapshot and handed it to Ellison.

Jim thanked them for their help and hospitality and promised to keep in touch as he ushered himself and his partner out of the house. Blair felt like they were leaving something undone but did not press his partner until they were in the car and on the way back to the airport.

"Okay, Jim. Tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking we have to get back to the airport in time to turn in this car and make our flight."

"Besides that." Sandburg's tone was exasperated.

"Seems like a nice family, tied up in something they don’t understand."

Blair looked out the window as the freeway sped by. He finally looked back at his partner. "Maybe so. You think that Peter’s family is involved?”

Jim nodded, eyes on the road. "Maybe not. But he might have a clue who is.” He glanced at Blair. "So, _Shaman_ , what do your instincts tell you? Who kidnapped the boy?"

"You're the _detective_ , Detective. I just think we have to look a little deeper before we start accusing anyone. You always say, follow the money."

"You're right. I do. Let's follow the money and see where it leads us." Jim drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, before glancing at his partner. "Did you pick up anything in the house, anything strange?"

Blair looked at Jim, then took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "No. But I want to ask Peter some questions. As the local Shaman and spiritual leader, he told John that a wolf was his spirit animal. Maybe the wolf that led Peter to us is really John's, not mine." He put his glasses back on; glanced at the notes he was making. "Did that statement make any sense at all?"

"Yeah, Chief, it did. And you know what. That is really scary."

"Why?"

"Because I'm afraid I'm entering the Sandburg Zone and I understand where I'm going."

Blair tapped his partner on the leg with an open palm and a chuckle. "Thanks man, you're all heart."

The team spent the two hours waiting for their flight on cell phones at a small table in a corner lounge. Jim checked in with Detective O’Malley and Simon to see if there was any additional information. Sandburg spent the time talking to various fish processors in southeast Alaska and British Columbia. He asked the same questions concerning the past years’ success and if they thought logging had any impact on their operations. It wasn’t long before he was jotting notes and nodding to the phone.

Jim finished his calls, then moved over so he could read Sandburg’s notes. The teacher finally finished his calls and flipped the phone closed. Without looking, Blair handed the notes over his shoulder to Jim. The detective studied them for a moment, then snagged his carry-on at his feet. He dug around and came up with a file folder and compared names.

“This is interesting.” Jim said more to himself then to his partner.

“I thought so. Everyone who believes that logging is the main culprit in diminishing fish stocks also believes that Dan Blackburn and the group he heads will stop it.” Blair nodded. “Got a few more names in his group.”

“I see that. Each one of them owns a fishing permit that hasn’t done very well the last few years.”

Jim handed Blair back his notes and stuffed his file back in his bag. “Something to check into when we get to Klawock, don’t you think?”

Blair nodded and started repacking his pack. He was interrupted when Jim nudged him and pointed to Robert Agawaik making his way through the crowds toward the gate.

“Should we ask him about these names?”

“I don’t see how we can avoid it. He’s lived here all his life. Probably knows the history of each family. I wouldn’t turn down a good source of information.” Jim got up from the table and headed toward Robert, Sandburg at his shoulder.

Once they were settled on the plane and seat belts firmly fastened, Blair pulled out his notes and handed them to Jim. Jim reached across the aisle and passed the pages to Agawaik. They were airborne before the native Alaskan looked up and met the crystal blue eyes. Agawaik handed back the pages and shook his head, eyes full of sorrow, but he remained silent.

“Do you know this group? And what they are doing?”

“Daniel was always a bit hard headed. Things didn’t happen fast enough, fishing was hard work that didn’t always pay off, you know. He believes that if the government wasn’t involved in our lives, things would be better.” Robert shook his head in disgust. “He always spoke out at tribal meetings about how our way of living was destroying the fishing. Over the last few years, there’s been a few others who hang out with him, saying the same things. Every time there is a logging contract bid, he and his friends protest it, or block it with some type of environmental action. But I would never believe he would stoop to kidnapping. Especially a child. John is practically his nephew. My son even calls him Uncle!”

“How about another member of his group? Our information shows he has gotten politically involved in anti-logging legislation. Could he be manipulated into doing something he wouldn’t normally do? Maybe he’s being paid to help, or blackmailed.”

Jim was interrupted by the flight attendant’s approach with a beverage cart and the men had to table their discussion for a few minutes. By the time the cart had cleared the space between them Robert was scribbling names on a sheet of Blair’s notes. Jim’s vision adjusted to the distance and he quietly read four new names, then finally a fifth. Robert handed the sheet to the detective.

“Those are the ones I know. There are a few others on the edges of the group, but that’s the main core. Detective Ellison, they’re good men. They may be in over their heads or just misguided. I don’t think any of them would hurt John. But then, I didn’t think John could be kidnapped from his own home in a relocate location like Prince of Wales Island, so what do I know.”

Jim skimmed over the list, nodding occasionally. He passed the list back to Sandburg, then looked at Robert, trying to read the lined and leathery face.

“Do you think Peter will help?”

Robert shook his head and rocked his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. North to Alaska

The three men flew on to Ketchikan, Alaska. Jim was quiet the rest of the two-hour flight to the small Alaska town, content to let Blair talk to Agawaik. It eased the teacher's mind, taking it off his fear of heights and gave Agawaik something to focus on besides his missing son. Jim was more concerned about all the missing pieces on this case. There had been no other contact with the kidnappers since the first note. No demands, no threats. While it wasn't unheard of, it was unusual. He closed his eyes, homing in on his lover's heartbeat and let if lull him into a fitful doze. Maybe his dreams would give him some clues.

*******************

Blair's fingers digging into his wrist woke Jim from the doze he had slipped into. The plane bounced in some sea air turbulence and then lined up for the runway. Jim rubbed his eyes and looked around. He could see the small airport just before the wingtip leveled out. He tightened his seatbelt a little more. It was a small airport and a short runway. Blair's fingers dug into his wrist and he gently freed them to lock the strong digits into his.

"Thought you'd been here before?"

"I have. I didn't like the landing then either."

The small jet bounced when it hit, and the sudden breaking threw all of them forward in their seats. Jim looked around and noticed that several of the passengers didn't even wake up. He shook his head. They all looked like local fishermen, which meant this kind of stopping was a routine occurrence. The plane rattled across some cracks and turned toward the small terminal. The ground was wet and Jim could see ripples in the water as the wind whistled through the airport. Around them, other passengers began to move, seat belts unbuckling, coats being dragged on.

Blair let go of Jim's hand, then looked out the window at the wet and wind. "Looks like Cascade to me. Raining and blowing."

Agawaik leaned over the aisle and smiled at them. "Yeah, but here, it's rain. If we climb about five hundred feet, it'll be snowing."

Blair shivered. "Glad we packed for winter."

Jim nodded. The plane taxied to a stop and they grabbed their carry-ons, then pulled hoods over their heads as they climbed down the steep folding stairs and walked across the ramp to the terminal. No jetways or concourses here, just paint on the ground showing where they should walk. It was a fast and wet dash.

An airline attendant stood at the open doorway, directing them inside out of the weather and up a flight of stairs. The stairwell smelled musty and moldy and Jim sneezed before he got to the top, trying to walk, see, breathe, and sneeze at the same time. Blair grabbed his arm and led him up the last couple of steps. He waited while Jim sneezed for the fifth time, then handed him a tissue from a pocket. Jim blew his nose, then wiped his eyes, finally squinting at his partner and smiled his thanks.

Agawaik waited for them, finally turned and came back. "I told the luggage handlers to throw your bags over to AirOne's cart. We've got to hurry. There's a storm moving in and if we don't get to Klawock tonight, we probably won't get there for a couple of days.

Jim and Blair exchanged glances. They were following Agawaik's quick strides. "Wait a second. Storm?" Blair questioned their host. He pointed at the rain beating on the terminal windows. "What do you call this?"

Agawaik shrugged. "A squall." He turned around, walking backward with a sure step. "There's a front coming in. We've got about three, maybe four hours before it hits the outer coast. Once it moves in, there won't be anyway to get in or out of Klawock for a couple of days."

"But I thought your home is outside of Klawock, at one of the small villages?" Blair had slowed almost to a stop, his hand on Jim's arm, slowing his progress down the terminal hallway.

"It is. We'll overnight in Klawock tonight at a friend's place. If the weather breaks tomorrow, I've got a guide friend who can fly us out via floatplane. If it doesn't, an extra day in Klawock won't be a problem."

"Maybe not for you, but what about us?" Jim had stopped walking as well, forcing Agawaik to come back to them.

"It won't be a problem. You already met Peter. That’s where we’ll stay." He glanced at Blair. "You did say you wanted to talk to him more. Here's your chance." He started down the hall again. "But we have to hurry."

Blair looked at his tall partner. "Why am I not reassured?"

Jim patted him on the face, threw his carry on higher on his shoulder and followed Agawaik. "Just think of Ruck and Storm Island, Chief. We flew out there in front of a storm," he called over his shoulder.

"And ended up getting shot at. Real reassuring, Jim." Blair followed his detective and tried to think good thoughts.

Jim kept his worries to himself. They were off the beaten path and getting further off all the time. If their plane went down because of bad weather, the chances were very good they would never be found. He followed his host back outside and followed Agawaik's example by grabbing his backpack out of the luggage cart, throwing it over his other shoulder. Blair grabbed his and slipped an arm through the strap, nodding to Jim. The three men headed for the brightly painted Navajo parked a little ways from the terminal.

The pilot took their bags from their hands and tossed them in the back behind the seats, along with a cooler and a bag stamped U.S. Mail. He draped a cargo net over the luggage, secured the hooks, and then rocked the tail, nodding to himself.

"Climb on gentlemen, watch your steps. Don't climb where it says 'don't climb'." He looked the part of a bush pilot, leather jacket with a fur collar, a hooded sweatshirt peeking out from underneath. His jeans were well worn and stained by splotches of oil and hydraulic fluid. A droopy mustache covered the lower half of his face, but bright brown eyes stared out from under the baseball cap.

Blair climbed on the wing of the plane and wiggled around until he was seated. He watched as Jim nestled in next to him, then figured out the shoulder harness. Jim did the same. The plane rocked again as Agawaik climbed into the co-pilot seat and picked up the headphones, slipped them over his ears like an old pro. He twisted in his seat, reached back and checked Blair's, then Jim's harness. He gave them both a thumb up and turned forward again.

The pilot climbed in and locked the door, reached over and checked the passenger door. He pulled the headphones over his ears, said something into a mic and then turned around and looked at his passengers. He chuckled.

"You two look like you're crammed into a sardine can. Sorry about that. Either one of you know anything about little planes?"

When both men shook their heads, they got a five-minute briefing on where the emergency equipment was located on the small craft and what to do in case of a crash. He finished with an offer of headphones for both, which they accepted. They listened as they got clearance to taxi and the latest weather briefing. Their pilot introduced himself as Mike and told them to relax. He'd been flying the Ketchikan - Klawock route for a year, and flying in Alaska for five. He'd never crashed and he was a cautious pilot.

"You know the old saying; 'There are old pilots and bold pilots, but there aren't any old, bold pilots.' I intend to be an old pilot, gentlemen, so don't worry." The props on the plane began to turn and after a moment it bounced onto the runway.

Blair grabbed Jim's hand, not saying a word about being nervous. He knew anything said aloud would be heard over the mics and he had no intention of letting anyone besides Jim know how unsettling flying made him. Jim's hands wrapped around his wordlessly and held them tightly until they were in the sky. The small plane climbed into the cloud filled sky, picking a path between the layers of white and gray. The trees and water disappeared in the low clouds. Jim heard his lover's heartbeat increase as he glanced out and could not see the ground.

"Which is worst? Seeing or not seeing the ground?" Jim whispered against one covered ear.

"Doesn't matter. My feet aren't on the ground." Blair looked up at Jim, gave him a sickly smile. "I'm getting better though. I didn't close my eyes during the take off."

"It's a start." Jim acknowledged. Then the plane dipped in turbulence and Jim almost lost the skin on the back of his hand to Blair's nails.

Mike came over the headphone. "Sorry about that. We're going to get tossed around for a little while. There’s a front moving in and the edge of this one is meeting the new one. They'll probably join up in a few hours but we'll be on the ground by then."

Jim nodded. "Thanks for the warning." He made sure Blair's harness was tight, did the same for his. Then he took Blair's hand and held it tight.

"So, what brings you guys to Alaska?" Mike's voice was jovial and relaxed.

Agawaik gave the pilot a brief outline of the story, just stating that Jim and Blair were investigating a case at the request of the FBI. Mike grunted over the mic, made some comment about city cops. The plane dipped again and everyone could hear Blair gasp over the headphones.

"Easy, Chief. Close your eyes and think calm thoughts."

"Easy for you to say, man." Blair moaned into the mic, but closed his eyes, taking deep slow breaths, trying to find his center.

Jim watched his mate, feeling the hand wrapped around his start to relax. After fifteen minutes, the grip eased and Jim could hear the frantic heartbeat slow and steady into a calm rhythm. Jim relaxed as well, assured Blair wasn't going to have a panic attack the next time the plane danced in the sky. The little plane continued across the cloud-covered fjords and mountains, occasionally bouncing as they encountered turbulence as they got closer to the edge of the storm.

Blair was quiet next to Jim; his only acknowledgement of the buffeting the Navajo was taking was the grip on Jim's hand. But his mind was far away; sitting on a rock littered beach, a large gray and brown wolf, with white splashes of fur, at his side. The surf pounded and ebbed against the rocks, kicking up spray that occasionally sprinkled his face.

He looked down at the wolf. One hand rested on the broad head, fingers deep in the thick soft fur between the ears. "We're getting closer, aren't we?"

The wolf looked up at him and the tail thumped against the ground. The animal turned its gaze back to the sea. As Blair watched, three bodies emerged from the water, dragging a child. Their features were flat, eyes slanted, their bodies covered in sleek fur. Blair's heart leaped. As the adult men got closer, Blair watched as the half-human creatures changed to something that looked vaguely Oriental. Blair watched as they took the child up the beach and into a rock and driftwood shelter. The wolf looked at Blair and then got up, stretching and shaking the salt water off his pelt.

Blair jerked back to himself as the plane dropped a hundred feet or more. He jerked at the straps holding him. Jim put his arm across the smaller chest.

"Easy, Chief, easy. We're okay."

"Jim." Blair started to hyperventilate as the plane trembled and shook. His hands were locked on Jim's. "Where are we?"

The pilot answered. "About 20 minutes out. As soon as I get a hole in the clouds we'll drop through. It might be a bit bumpier, but we'll need the visibility. The flight service station says the ceiling is still above minimums.

"Where were you, Chief?" Jim pulled the headphones off, disconnecting the mic. Blair did the same. The noise of the aircraft flying through the storm would keep them from being overheard. He leaned close rather than turn his hearing up and having to filter out the airplane noise.

"Sitting on a beach with the wolf. Three oriental men came up out of the water. They were dragging a little boy up the beach to a rock and driftwood shelter.

"What do you think it means?"

"I think it means we're on the right track." Blair tried to look out the window, then pulled his gaze back to his partner. Jim was looking over him at the cloud filled sky. His eyes were almost fully dilated as he looked for breaks in the clouds. The sky seemed solid with gray and white fluff, some of it smired across the thicker clouds, testifying they were flying with wind pushing them toward their destination. He finally touched Blair's arm and pointed.

"See it, Mike? The break in the clouds, ahead of us on your left." Jim pulled the headphones back on and spoke into the mic. The pilot's head swiveled around; looking for the green or blue strip that would be land under them.

"Got it. Good eyes, Ellison." The plane turned and dipped slightly, angling for the gap before it could close. "Make sure you guys are strapped in tight. This may get a little bumpy."

Jim acknowledged the comment and then rechecked their harnesses. Blair had his eyes closed again, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as the plane descended. Jim wrapped his hand into Blair's and held on.

The little Navajo sat down on the runway in the middle of pouring rain and wind that rocked it sideways as it taxied to the hanger which pretended to be a terminal building. Blair finally let out the breath he'd been holding as the little plane came in over the water and crossed over the threshold.

When the plane stopped and the pilot lifted the door, Blair looked at his larger partner. "I will never complain about helicopters and large planes again, Jim."

Jim nodded, then pulled himself out of the harness and started helping the pilot and Robert with the cargo net and luggage. By the time they were in the hangar bay with the luggage, all four men were soaked.

Blair looked around the hangar as he followed the locals into the passenger part of the building. A couple of fuselages took up most of the open area; wings and other identifiable pieces and equipment were stacked along the walls. The gravel floor was hard packed and stained with oil, and the tools lying on benches and barrels looked as they had seen better days. A couple of young men looked up as the wet crew off the Navajo walked by then went back to their work.

The passenger side of the building was worn and old, evidence of a tough life and just barely getting by in the air taxi business. The carpet on the plywood floor was stained and musty smelling and the paint had once been green. But it was warm and lit brightly, and the two native women behind the counter were smiling and cheerful. They greeted the two locals by first name, then asked if the newcomers would like coffee or tea to warm up with.

Robert picked up the phone on the counter and punched in a few numbers, mumbling into the receiver with a nod before hanging it back up. "I just called Peter Blackburn, see if he could come get us. He's got a jeep that will hold our stuff and us. It's not that far to walk, but it's wet and the wind will drive right through you. No use catching pneumonia."

One of the women brought a tray over with cups of coffee and packets of sugar and cream. Blair thanked her politely, smiling as his hands held the warm styroform. One part of his mind analyzed the facial features, braided black hair and decided she was full Native American, of which tribe he had no idea. Dressed in jeans and sweatshirt, hands callused and scared, she looked the part of a hard worker.

Mike came back in, shaking the rain off his baseball cap. "Guess you'll not going any further tonight. National Weather Service just broadcast full gale in the area. You guys got a place to stay?"

Robert explained it was all taken care of and shook the pilot's hand, thanking him for flying them over.

Jim wandered over to the window looking over the gravel parking lot at the side of the hangar and watched the fat raindrops create tiny craters in the puddles. He heard a struggling engine as a jeep came around the corner and turned around, backing up to the front door. At one time it was a jeep Cherokee, painted red and a beautiful work of machinery. Now it was red mixed with primer and rust, a headlight cocked into the air and the rear bumper replaced with a metal beam and a trailer hitch. Peter Blackburn forced open a badly creased door and dashed out of the rain. He yanked open the door into the terminal and slammed it behind him, then stomped his feet on the rubber mat, trying to shake off the mud.

Jim watched the man's action then met the dark brown eyes of the native. Their earlier meeting had been in Simon’s office, on Jim’s home turf. Now it was different. Those eyes seemed to go right through him, and suddenly Jim felt like he was a pinned butterfly on a mounting board. A warm hand touched his arm and then Blair was there, in front of the Sentinel, eyes defiant at Blackburn. Sapphire blue met dark brown in a battle of wills. The native dropped his eyes first.

Then Blair stepped a half step forward. "Nice to meet you again Peter.” He offered his hand.

Peter shook the hand, but his eyes were on Jim. The Indian shook his head as if to dislodge the vision. "Where are my manners? Please, let's get your gear and we'll head back to my place. You won't be able to get to Robert's cabin tonight, maybe not even tomorrow." He hustled around the two Cascadians, hugged Robert and patted him on the back, then snagged a backpack off the floor. "Come on gang, let's get moving before the road is too bad to make it home."

Jim glanced at his partner, then followed Peter's example.

The road from the tiny airport was barely passable. The jeep turned off the gravel road onto a dirt trail, barely wide enough for the jeep's mirrors. Logs buried across the trail acted as miniature dams and the jeep growled through puddles, throwing mud up on the windows. Large hemlock bordered the trail and the jeep wound its way around huge trees and stumps.

From his corner in the back seat, Blair watched Jim watch the trees. He reached over and took a cold hand. "What are you thinking?"

"Different type of jungle. Beautiful in its own way, and just as deadly. Wonder what it would be like to live here for awhile, experience an arctic rain forest, seeing the ice fill the streams, watch a grizzly grab a salmon out of a stream. Can you imagine what the sky looks like full of the aurora?"

Peter called from the driver's seat. "The sky can be really spectacular. From the northern lights to a sunset. The sky is so big here, so open. Some of the cloudscapes are awesome. I think I have a few photos that show some of what I'm talking about." Robert nodded his head, but remained silent, just like he had almost the entire trip. Peter spun the steering wheel, missed a huge hole, then angled toward a rambling log house hiding in the trees, the roof covered in moss. A thin line of smoke spiraled out of the large stone chimney. There wasn't much grass in the yard, and a wooden boardwalk led from the gravel patch the jeep stopped on. Piled around the cabin were all types of used appliances and vehicles, ranging from wood stoves to snowmobile chassises, to aluminum riverboats lying on stacks of firewood.

Blair unfolded himself from the backseat, eyes taking in all of the stuff piled around the cabin. He glanced at Jim. "Homesteader's supply store."

Peter opened the back of the jeep, taking out a pack and swinging it over a shoulder. "Nope. Just don't throw anything anyway. Might need it."

"That's what I said." Blair grabbed his own pack, and Robert did the same. Jim grabbed what ever was left and squished through the rain, following Blair as he stomped across the boardwalk.

The log cabin was warm and smelled of wood smoke. From the arctic entryway Blair could see the floors were large slabs of barely finished cedar and fir, covered over with braided rag rugs and pieces of carpet. Blair's eyes lit up at the grouping of ceremonial masks on one wall, and rough totem carvings sitting on the floor underneath them.

Peter tossed their packs in a corner, motioned his arms to encompass the rooms, as they all kicked off muddy shoes and wet coats. "Make yourself at home. It may not be much, but it's got all the amenities, the roof doesn't leak and it's warm. Sometimes, those are the most important things."

Jim watched Blair as he looked around; the intense curiosity radiating from him made the young professor an intriguing man to watch. Blair was kneeling in front of the totems, one finger stroking over a raven's beak. Then he stood and touched one of the masks on the wall, another strong finger following the curve of the wood around the mouth slit. Blair's eyes were narrowed, as if he was trying to decipher something from the carving itself.

Peter watched Sandburg for a moment, then seemed to shake himself and offer everyone coffee. He disappeared into the doorway that opened into the kitchen. Blair wandered around the room, landing in front of a dark painting of a wolf peering from a shadow, gold eyes drawing the viewer into the center of the picture. Jim joined his partner and the two stared at the wolf, lost in the depth of the animal’s eyes. They were interrupted as Peter brought in a tray of coffee, mugs, and an assortment of cookies. He sat the tray on a coffee table whose legs could barely hold up the weight and motioned for everyone to help themselves. Blair poured a mug of coffee for himself, wandered back and stared at the wolf painting. The gold eyes stared at the human and Blair was forced to blink.

Then Peter was at his elbow. “The wolf who guides you is very old, very wise. He seems to have seen many things.”

Blair looked at the local Shaman. “Can you see everyone’s power animal?”

“No. Only the ones those are very powerful. Your wolf, Jim’s jaguar. My son’s raven.”

“Daniel’s is a raven?”

Peter looked into Blair’s blue eyes and Blair saw lots of sorrow there. “Yes.”

There seemed to be nothing left to say. Blair and Peter’s eyes met with perfect understanding. The belief was so strong words weren’t needed. Peter shook his head and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.”

“You are indeed powerful, Dr. Sandburg. No wonder your spirit guide is so strong willed.”

Jim interrupted them. “It’s been a long day and quite frankly, I’m hungry. If you show us where to stow our gear -” the question was dropped, unasked.

“Of course. My wife is making dinner and I’ll show you our guestroom. I’m sorry it’s small but family usually doesn’t mind.”

Robert called from his reclining position on the couch. “I’ll crash here, Peter.”

Peter led them down a short hallway, past a bathroom and laundry room combination to a doorway that led into a small bedroom containing two twin beds. He looked at Ellison’s height. “You might just want to sleep on the floor, Detective. Your feet will probably hang over.”

Jim offered a brief smile, mumbled “I’ll manage,” and threw his gear on the bed closest to the door.

Blair dumped his pack on the other one then opened a multi-colored curtain and looked out at the rain forest visible in the deepening gloom. “What time is dark?”

“Around eight. Why?”

Blair glanced at Jim. “Want to take a walk before dark? Stretch your legs?” He glanced back to Peter. “Do we have time before dinner?”

Jim looked at his partner, seeing the twinkle in the dark blue eyes.

“It’s wet outside. Sure you want to go out, Chief?”

“It’ll just be damp under the trees.” He met Jim’s eyes with a twinkle in his own. “I’ve been wet before.”

Jim closed his eyes at the statement; the memory hurt still, but he forced a smile. The memory only hurt if he let it.

Peter nodded at the young man. “Don’t go too far. There are bears in the area. They’ve just come out of hibernation and they’re hungry. I’ll yell when dinner is ready.”

“We won’t.” Blair breezed by Peter in the doorway and barely waited for Jim to follow him before he was pulling on his hiking boots and snatching his jacket.

Jim lengthened his stride, catching up with Blair and sliding a hand around the younger man’s waist. “What’s the rush, Chief?”

Blair leaned into the arm around his waist. "No rush. Just wanted outside for a moment. I thought I saw my wolf...” Blair’s voice drifted off as he turned a slow 360, eyes studying each shadow. "...But he's not here." Blair smiled reassuringly at Jim and settled his pace to match his partner's.

They stepped out of the clearing that contained the cabin and into deep moss and muskeg, pine needles and ancient partially decayed stumps. The remaining trees created a huge canopy over them that blocked out all but the largest raindrops. The evening dusk was deep here among the huge trees and the silence was deeper.

Jim stopped, inhaling the wet air, nostrils flaring as he drew the cool wetness deep inside. Blair watched as the Sentinel absorbed the silence and stillness around them. Blair knew Jim’s eyes were fully dilated in the near darkness, the sentinel would have almost full daylight at his disposal. He let Jim pull him tight against the strong body and lay his head on the broad shoulder, content in his partner’s embrace.

“We haven’t had time to go back to the wilderness in a long time Jim. The forest pulls at you, doesn’t it? It pulls at me.”

“Yes.” Jim whispered. His hands roamed up into Blair’s hair, freeing the ponytail and stroking the curls loose. The fingers came up around the long neck and touched the firm chin, drawing it closer with two fingers until their lips touched.

“Jim.” Blair whispered into the open mouth, his hands creeping up Jim’s chest until they were around the detective’s neck, molding them together as they kissed.  “Missed you today.” Blair mumbled between kisses.

“I know.” Jim whispered back between kisses. His lips worked from the plush lips to the long throat and nibbled there, tongue bathing each tooth sting. One hand was still in the long curls; the other was opening the multiple layers of shirts tucked into the waist. Finally fingers found the warm flesh at the sides and back and stoked back and forth on the tender skin.

Blair’s hands were moving up and down Jim’s back underneath the rain jacket. He bit lightly on an ear tip as Jim licked his neck.

“The ground’s too wet to make love on, baby.” Jim growled into Blair’s throat.

“I know.” But Blair’s hands had freed Jim’s shirt in front and his fingers were running up and down the ridged stomach.

“You’re making it awful hard not to pull your pants down and go to my knees in front of you.”

“It’s too cold and wet, man.”

Jim came back to his lover’s lips. “So what are you suggesting?”

In response, Blair unzipped the tight jeans, fumbling to free the rigid erection from its prison. Jim groaned at the touch, head dropping back, eyes closed as Blair’s talented fingers slid up and down the long shaft.

“Chief you’re gonna make me come if you keep that up.” The narrow hips thrust into Sandburg’s grip, rocking.

“Uh, huh.” Blair latched onto Jim’s neck kissing and sucking on the vein, which pulsed under his lips. He moaned loudly when Jim unfastened his jeans and eased him from the silk boxers, fingertips rubbing over the moisture oozing from the slit in the head.

They were silent except for their panting breaths and wet kissing sounds as they stole a moment of frantic passion.

Jim groaned into Blair’s mouth as he came, sucking on his partner’s tongue as his hips arched into Blair’s pistoning hand. Blair broke from the kiss trying to breathe without screaming as his own orgasm raced through him.

They rested against each other as their hearts settled down and their breathing returned to normal. The evidence of their passions melted into the rain soaked ground and a handy handkerchief cleaned up the rest.

Jim held Blair close, kissing him gently softly, whispering love words into the dark curls.

Blair would have gladly stayed in the warm embrace for hours if the cold hadn’t penetrated and he shivered, goosebumps racing up his spine.

Jim chuckled at his cold sensitive lover and reached down to tuck the exposed flesh back into the open jeans. Blair returned the favor, and then they found a huge stump to sit on as the darkness settled completely.

Blair nestled back into Jim’s arms. “So quiet.” he whispered. It was an unspoken question for Jim to tell him what the sentinel could hear.

“There’s a stream not to far away. The water is bubbling around the rocks. I can hear an animal splashing along the edge; its feet make a sucking sound. Must be a moose or some type of hoofed animal. I don’t think a bear would squish like that.”

Jim turned his head, cocking it to one side as he let his ultra sensitive hearing expand. “I can hear Peter and Robert talking, and a woman. Must be Peter’s wife. Robert is telling them about John and what we’ve been doing to find him. Peter says that he dreamed about the boy the other night. He says that a young wolf is with the boy, watching over him.” Jim glanced at Blair who was tucked under his arm, his head resting on the broad chest. “Kinda sounds like your dream.”

Blair nodded. “What else?”

Jim’s hands slid through the dark curls, which were beginning to frizz in the dampness. “The ocean must be close. I can hear the surf on the rocks. There’s a whale out there, singing.” Jim’s voice stopped as he listened to the whale song, totally immersed in the unfamiliar sound.

After a few minutes Blair called his sentinel back from where ever the sound took him. Jim shook his head, blinking in the darkness as he realized where he was. He pulled Blair tighter to him, silently telling his partner he was back.

Blair touched Jim’s face with a cold hand, stoking down the granite jaw. “I envy you sometimes, man. I’ve only heard a whale on a tape. The sensation must be incredible.” He leaned up, kissed Jim’s lips. “I’m getting cold. Ready to go back in?”

Jim’s nostrils flared. “I think fresh bread just came out of the oven.” He lifted Blair to his feet, kept the square hand in his. “I’m starved, Chief.”

“Me too.” Blair stole another kiss. “Lead the way.”

They held hands until they reached the cabin door, stomping their feet in the arctic entryway before pulling off their hiking boots and leaving them just outside the door leading to the inside of the cabin.

The smell of meatloaf, fresh bread and cooked potatoes caught Blair in the face when they stepped inside and Blair’s stomach growled, loudly.

Jim laughed at his partner’s embarrassed expression, then slipped out of his rain jacket, hanging it on a convenient peg before taking Blair’s.

Peter stepped out of the kitchen. “I was just getting ready to yell for you. Good timing.”

“Jim smelled the bread.” Blair looked at his lover with shining eyes. “He’s not one to miss home made bread.”

“Then let’s eat.”

Peter led the way into the kitchen - dining room area and introduced his wife as Ruth. She smiled as her guests sat down at the table, joining Robert who was slicing up a large meatloaf. Ruth was as dark as Robert was, with black eyes and hair. But she was smaller, barely 5 feet and maybe a hundred pounds. Her hair was short, cut in a bob that framed her face and was laced heavily with silver. Her face was weathered and worn, but her eyes were young.

Dinner conversation ran the gauntlet, from travel to culture difference to fishing and logging concerns. Blair listened with wide eyed interest, trying to fit the new knowledge about local problems into the framework that he’d already put together as a possible motive. A yawn caught him by surprise as they had coffee and pie. Everyone around him laughed.

“Guess that’s a good indication that it’s been a long day.” Jim got up and started to help Ruth clear the table. Robert joined in with the kitchen chores, leaving Blair and Peter at the table, sipping the last of their coffee.

Peter was studying the anthropologist with undisguised interest. “You believe there are lots of layers in this puzzle. That a kidnapped boy is only a portion of a larger problem.

Blair looked into the dark brown eyes and slowly nodded. “Kidnapping John was either a threat to keep Robert quiet, or a pawn to be used against someone else.”

Peter looked at Sandburg, then Ellison. After a moment, he leaned back in his seat and spoke in confident tones. “The raven. Daniel.”

Ellison spoke quickly. “We don’t have any proof or any names. We understand that Daniel leads a group of young fishermen who oppose logging.” He paused and studied Peter. The Shaman’s heart was steady and unhurried. “Could the boy be used as a hostage against Daniel or any of his group?’

Peter nodded. “Oh yes. Against Daniel, me, any of our family. You have studied our history.”

Blair nodded. “Tlingit-Haida tribes have been intermarrying for years. But, your numbers are small. A threat to one is a threat to all.”

“Precisely.” Blair met the shaman’s eyes, dreading the next question that he felt he must ask. “Do you think Daniel’s involved? That he took the boy?”

“No. John is like a son to both of us. But I’m afraid Daniel is involved, somehow. He hasn’t been around much lately.”

Blair yawned again, shaking his head. “Sorry man, been a long day, even longer weeks.” Then Jim was there, lifting Sandburg by the arm. “Time for bed, Chief.” Good nights were said all around and Jim hustled his yawning partner into the bedroom where they looked at the twin beds and shared sheepish grins.

“Feel like rearranging the furniture, Sandburg?” Jim asked, making hand motions of sliding the two beds together, grinning as he did so.

Blair shook his head, acknowledging Jim’s joke. “Naaa. Guess I’ll just have to be cold tonight, without my human blanket.”

They shared a long hard kiss, promising each other ‘later’ then got ready for bed.

Morning found Jim on the floor between the two beds, having finally given up on being comfortable on the too short mattress. Sometime in the wee hours, he’d pulled the blankets and pillows down on the carpet and stretched out. Blair’s arm was draped over the side of his mattress and the dangling hand had found Jim’s head, where it nestled into the short hair.

Watery daylight finally penetrated Jim’s sleep and he opened his eyes, blinking as he took in his surroundings. The house was quiet and Jim’s hearing spiraled outward, logging in his partner’s heartbeat, then the others’ scattered throughout the cabin. Outside, birds tried to sing in the early morning light.

Jim eased out of his nest of blankets, taking Blair’s hand and tucking it back under his blanket. He brushed the back of his hand across Blair’s cheek as he got up and pulled on his clothes before tossing his collection of blankets and pillows back on the small mattress. He touched Blair’s sleeping face with a gentle kiss then slipped out of the small bedroom.

He tiptoed through the living room, past Robert’s sprawled body on the couch under a sleeping bag and into the arctic entry where he pulled on boots and jacket before letting himself out into the early morning chill.

The sun was not visible behind the dirty gray and white clouds which scuttled across the sky, only a dim spot of light marking its location. Jim stopped, smelling the morning air deeply before walking down the wet boardwalk and into the forest.

Blair had been right when he said the forest called to him. The ancient trees guarding the sky beckoned as he walked through them, occasionally brushing one hand over the thick bark, his senses wide open to the pristine surroundings.

He didn’t get to let his senses have free reign very often. They were always too many people around, too noisy, too smelly, too bright. But in the wilderness he could relax the controls he and Sandburg had worked so hard on.

Insects were almost as loud as planes, birds sang with crystal clarity as their notes left the scale normal hearing could detect. His nose tingled at the scents of all the various plants and their remains that covered the forest floor.

He heard the stumbling shuffle of a bear in the distance, caught its scent for a second as the light morning breeze shifted. He wandered through the tall trees, footsteps deadened by the thick moss and compacted wet needles underfoot. The small stream he’d heard the night before was to his left and he stopped at a large rock that caught the stream in a bend. He climbed up on the boulder, settling on his knees for a moment, hands tucked into his pockets and watched the water play across the gravel.

He watched as a doe stepped out of a shadow followed closely by a wobbly-legged spotted fawn. They drank from a small pool, the doe’s head coming up every few seconds, ears pricked to catch any sound which might mean danger. Thirst quenched, they trotted across the stream and disappeared into the shadows again.

Jim turned his head, focusing on the cabin he’d left behind. He heard sounds of movement from inside, smelled wood smoke as a fire was started in a stove. He slid off the rock and started back the way he came. An eagle launching itself from a tree caught his attention and he froze for a second, his eyes tracking the bird as it swooped down on the stream, feet snagging a fish before peeling away to land gently in another tree, one talon still holding its prey.

Jim shook his head, pulling himself back from the too tight focus. It would have been so easy to fall into a zone-put, mesmerized by the white headed bird.

Jim found Peter standing on the boardwalk when he stepped clear of the ancient trees. The Indian was watching his approach, a soft smile on his lips, two cups of coffee in his hands. Jim took one in his cold hands with a nod of thanks, letting the steam warm his face for a second.

“Good morning.” Peter sipped his coffee.

Jim nodded. “Looks like the storm blew through last night.”

The Indian nodded. “They tend to blow through fairly quickly in the spring. We’ll have three, maybe four days before the next one.”

The two men looked into the forest in silence, Jim absorbing the peace, Peter trying to not watch the cop. “Your spirit animal is never far, is he?” Peter nodded toward the trees. The Shaman saw the big cat lying on a stump, tail flickering occasionally.

“I don’t see it unless there’s trouble or it’s trying to get my attention. I take you can see it.”

Peter nodded. “And Dr. Sandburg’s wolf. Two such powerful animals are hard to ignore.”

Jim chuckled. “No kidding. I’ve only seen the wolf a couple of times, when Blair’s life was threatened. Sandburg has learned how to see it more often. He says it easier since he’s learned how to enter the spirit plane.”

Peter was watching the wolf sitting on the ground next to the cat. The cat reached over, swatted a convenient ear.

Jim cocked his head, hearing Blair’s heart rate increase as he woke. He smiled to himself. “Sandburg’s awake. I hope there is more coffee.”

Peter eyed the detective. “How - oh, never mind.” He went back inside and Jim followed the sound as Peter poured another cup of coffee for his partner.

Blair’s bare feet padded across the various pieces of carpet and rugs. Jim heard the coffee mug slide across the table and Blair’s inhalation as he breathed in the steam before taking a sip. The cop turned his gaze back to the forest, tracking an eagle to its nest.

Blair joined him, wrapped in layers and jacket, and silently watched his partner watch the bird. “Good morning, love.” Jim greeted his love with a smile and hug.

Blair returned the hug, carefully balancing his coffee mug. “Morning, Jim. How’d you sleep?”

“Not bad.” Jim pointed at the eagle. “Can you see it?”

Blair squinted in the morning light until he spotted the white head and tail against the dark trees. “Got it.” Blair pointed at it, grinning.

Jim nodded at his excited partner. Robert joined them in their bird watching and the three men shared the morning until the eagle get tired of being stared at and flew away. Peter stuck his head out the door and announced breakfast.

Over stacks of pancakes and plates of eggs and bacon, Robert announced that the plane to pick them up would be there around noon, unless the weather turned bad again.

Jim and Blair exchanged a quick gaze before Blair turned to Peter. “I would like to talk about the spirit animals we were discussing earlier.”

Peter nodded, a sparkle in his eye. “I don’t get to talk about my craft very often, Dr. Sandburg.”

Jim smiled at Blair before turning to Robert. “I’d like to see some of the area, maybe some of the logged areas -”

Robert nodded over his coffee. “If Peter doesn’t mind me taking the jeep?”

“Certainly.” Peter pointed at the keys hanging on a peg. “It even has gas.”

Breakfast finished quickly with the team splitting up for their planned morning. Peter escorted Blair to a small room off the kitchen, which turned out to be his workshop. The walls were full of carvings in various stages, the floor piled with wood and wood shavings. Carving tools were scattered over a workbench. Peter pointed at an old recliner, settled down on a barstool at his workbench. He picked up a piece of driftwood partially carved into a wolf head.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

Blair picked up a carving of a raven and stroked the wooden feathers and beak. The eyes seemed to stare right at him, wooden irises a different color wood. “Tell me about John’s spirit guide.”

********

Ellison and Robert bounced along the logging trail, jeep barely clearing piles of brush and ancient stumps. From time to time they could glimpse the white capped ocean and the rocky beach underneath them. The jeep finally broke into a clear-cut area and Robert stopped the vehicle.

The land had been stripped. The entire ridge in front of them was barren except for huge stumps and the limbs of ancient cedar and hemlock, left behind when the loggers took the trunks. Here and there a sapling struggled for life, towering above the bush alders and willow. On the lee sides of the exposed rocks, drifts of rotting snow soaked the moss and needle covered soil.

Jim sat in the jeep and stared. He glanced at Robert, trying to gauge the man’s reaction to the vista in front of them.

“Doesn’t look like much, does it?” Robert broke the silence, leaning on the steering wheel.

Jim hesitated making a comment. The rape of the land in front of him sickened him. Incacha taught him part of his responsibility as sentinel was to protect the land. There was nothing he could do to stop what was in front of him, but that didn’t mean he had to approve of it. Anything but a vaguely neutral comment was beyond him.

“How long before it grows back?”

Robert shrugged his shoulders. “Some of those trees were over a thousand years old. It’ll take a long time before the forest can be harvested again. By that time all this land will be locked up by somebody determined to drive the logging companies out of business.”

“Is that why your son was kidnapped?”

“Of course. I’m just a little guy. Drive me out of business, prove their tactics work, and they can just move up the ladder.”

“So who are they?” Jim was very quiet as he asked his mind racing. All of his and Sandburg’s work had been based on a lot of conjecture and what ifs. If Robert had something more tangible to add to the puzzle, it might lead to positive proof.

“I was talking to a couple of fishermen the other day and they were telling me how the logging destroyed the salmon streams. Now that the fishing is no good, and the logging money is just about gone, it’s all our fault that their livelihood is being taken away from them.”

Jim looked at him with puzzlement. “Your fault? You mean logger’s fault?” The cop followed Robert as he got out of the jeep and stretched his legs as he talked, the two of them walking side by side on the mud filled trail.

Robert talked of logging the mountains over the past decade and the amount of money that had flowed through the native hands. Between logging and fishing, a lot of the native Alaskans had gotten wealthy, and now the easy money was drying up. “But new boats are still appearing in the fleet with no explanations. You already know the names of most of the owners.” Robert glanced at Jim, then quickly away. “Couple of the bigger logging companies went under, but the families that owned them are spending like the money is going to last forever. Something ain’t right.” Robert shook his head. “You know, logging ain’t an easy life, neither is fishing. On a good year, you pay off your debts, set a little aside for the lean times, fix your equipment, fix your boat. On a bad year, you hold on for all you’re worth, getting extensions on your loans, and pray for a good season. Fishing hasn’t been great in years. Logging’s the same way.” He looked out over the land. “When you look back at what logging does to the land for the long term, is the money worth it?”

“Why do you do it then?” Jim looked out over the devastated land. “Cutting the old growth forest will eventually cut your own throat.”

“It’s a renewable resource.”

“Not in your lifetime, or your son’s. Even if the trees re-seed, the old growth forest will never return. Logging destroys it.” The words were out before Jim could call them back.

Robert leaned on a stump, looking at the cop. “I take it that you don’t approve of logging.” His words were laced with irony.

“It’s not my place to approve or disapprove. As a logger, you see the land as a resource to be harvested. The fishermen do the same with fish. The kidnappers see logging as a threat to their livelihood. So a group of them is taking action to stop it. One of your own men may be a ringleader. Does that sound about right? Have you heard Daniel or anyone in your crew talking about taking action against logging?”

Robert looked out over the ridge. “Not to my face. I’ve heard rumors during the winter, but mostly from someone who was facing losing their boat.” Robert sighed and looked out over the ridge of cut stumps. He shook his head. “I don’t know what to believe. But something is going on. John being kidnapped is just a piece of the puzzle.” He turned to face Jim, and studied the planed face, the iceberg blue eyes that were shadowed. “What’s your opinion?”

Jim shrugged. “I don’t have anything that will hold up in court, no evidence, nothing that we can use to question someone, nothing but a Shaman’s vision and rumors. But you’re right about things not adding up,” his ice blue eyes meeting the dark brown ones. “If you believe in visions, then we think John’s still on the island. He’s being watched over.”

Robert sagged against a stump. “Thank God. You know who kidnapped him, don’t you?”

“Not quite. But you know the names on the short list.”

********************

Blair’s eyes were closed, mouth slightly open as he breathed in the smoke given off by the tiny incense at his feet.

Peter’s voice whispered through his ears. “Your spirit animal leads on a mission to rescue a young boy. Find your wolf, young shaman. Ask it to show you where the boy is.”

In Blair’s mind eye the gray wolf trotted up a rocky beach, a wolf pup bouncing around it as it loped along. The adult wolf stopped and then turned inland, following a stream choked with rotting fish. The stream led to a fallen in sod and log cabin, the roof only slightly visible with its layer of camouflage moss and vines.

The wolf nosed around the partially collapsed room, then urged the wolf pup to dig into the debris. Both animals disappeared into smoke.

Blair jerked awake, eyes opening to see Peter still carving on the driftwood. The incense burner, once full of bark shavings and dried leaves, were now full of ashes almost cold.

“What did you see, young shaman?”

“My spirit animal and a wolf pup. A fallen in cabin near a stream full of dead fish.” “The young pup is John’s spirit animal. I saw the two of them together before John could walk. He will grow up to be a strong and wise man, with such an animal to guide him.”

“But where is he?”

“You’ll recognize the stream when you come to it.” Peter offered Blair some juice from the little refrigerator under the workbench.

“You said your spirit animal is an owl. Could you ask it to fly over the area, maybe show you a reference point we could find on a map?”

Peter chuckled at the younger man. “It doesn’t work that way, Dr. Sandburg. While I might contact my spirit guide and ask for its guidance, it may or may not elect to show me something you can use.”

"But it’s worth a shot, right?” Blair’s enthusiasm bubbled off of him as he looked at the older shaman.

Peter sighed. “I will try.” He stirred the incense burner and added another handful of leaves before touching a lighter to them. He closed his eyes, seeming to sink into himself as he hummed under his breath.

Blair watched in fascinated silence as the Indian’s fingers danced intricate patterns in the air in front of him. He could almost see the flight feathers the dancing fingers mimicked. He sat completely still for fifteen minutes, waiting for Peter to return. Finally, Peter moved, stretching his back before opening his eyes.

“My spirit animal could not help. A raven shadowed it.”

“Daniel.”

“Possibility. Many people have spirit guides, young shaman. It takes a long time to learn to tell one from another. Do not assume what you cannot prove.”

“Now you sound like Jim.”

“The search for truth happens on many levels.” Blair blinked at the statement and filed it away for contemplating later.

********

Blair stepped from the log cabin as the jeep pulled into the yard and watched Jim unfold from the vehicle. Their eyes met and Jim shook his head. The detective did not look happy. Blair met him halfway down the boardwalk.

"How was your excursion?" His hand touched his partner's arm, fingers drifting over the muscled forearm. Jim's eyes met his and the skin around his eyes softened.

"Grab your jacket and let's take a walk."

Blair nodded and trotted back inside while Jim waited. He looked up at the sky with a quiet sigh, then shook his head. He was so tired of hearing about 'the bottom line'. Had greed destroyed everything mankind had once held dear? Or was it just this day and age? For one long moment he entertained the idea of packing up Sandburg and heading for the South American rainforest. But watching Blair as the younger man danced down the steps to the boardwalk changed his mind. His lover deserved all the comforts a civilized existence could bring.

Peter joined Robert on the porch, coffee mug in hand.

Jim called to Robert. "We've got a little time, right, Robert?"

"I haven't heard from the pilot yet to see if he's coming. As soon as I know, you'll know."

"Good enough. Chief?" Jim turned toward the woods, Blair bouncing at his side. The two men retraced their steps into the forest from the night before, hands sliding together as they walked. The silence of the forest swallowed up their footsteps as they walked.

"So what did you find out?" Blair tickled the palm holding his, watching the sentinel's face for the anticipated smile.

"Logging destroyed the land for several generations." Jim gripped the tickling hand, then smiled slightly at his partner, knowing the expression was expected.

Blair sighed before gripping Jim's arm sympathetically. "I know that, lover. We've seen it all over the Pacific Northwest."

"I just find it so hard to accept here. You know the saying 'Alaska, the Last Frontier'. You expect to see miles and miles of tall trees and mountains, not ravaged ridges."

Blair closed his eyes, feeling the pain pouring off the sentinel. "And you can't stop it."

Jim nodded. "And I can't stop it," he agreed quietly. He gripped his Guide's hand a little tighter. "What did you learn from Robert?"

"He has his own suspicions about how the fishing industry is tied into the logging industry. He doesn't have any proof, and can't name names, but we're on the right track. Did you learn anything about Daniel?"

"His spirit animal is a raven and Peter thinks the raven is watching."

Jim sat down on a stump large enough for a pool table. "Does he think Daniel kidnapped the boy?"

"No, he thinks Daniel is involved, but not the kidnapper." Blair sat beside his partner. "I get the feeling Peter thinks Daniel may be the fall guy in this. When we find John, all the tracks will lead back to Daniel. I think Peter is afraid anything he says may be used to incriminate his son."

"Did you get a clue where John is being held?"

"Near a beach, in a partially torn down or collapsed cabin or hunter's shack on the island."

"Nothing better?"

"Sorry, my wolf wasn't any more specific and Peter's owl wasn't any help. But I did see John's spirit wolf pup so I think the boy is fine."

"So we're no closer?"

"Doesn't look like it."

The two men were silent, letting nature fill in around them. The tall trees swept into the cloud-brocaded sky. The ground under their feet was wet and springy, their tracks no longer visible on the moss and muskeg. Jim slipped his arms around Blair and pulled him tight, absently dropping a kiss on the curls draped around the younger man's forehead.

"Where do we go from here?"  Blair asked, wrapping his fingers around Jim's.

"Up to Robert's home. I'll ask the pilot to fly around the area, get the lay of the land. You think the boy is still on the island." Jim shrugged. "Maybe you'll recognize the beach where your wolf showed you the cabin."

Blair stopped Jim's voice with a kiss. The detective leaned into his partner, enjoying the moment. Jim wrapped his fingers into the dark curls that had escaped the stocking cap. He lost himself in their love, absorbing the emotions shared in their kiss.

Blair pulled back, studied the crystal blue eyes smiling at him. "When we're done with this case, I'd like to come back here for awhile."

Jim smiled, then chuckled, his eyes watching his fingers stroking down his lover's face. "You mean you'd put up with the cold and damp of your own free will?"

"No man. I mean stay at a nice bed and breakfast. Do a little hiking, a little fishing."

"Explore tribal legends about Sentinels."

"Walk on a beach, without worrying about prying eyes."

"Check out totems at various villages," Jim said with a grin.

Blair half-heartedly slapped at the arm around his waist. "Here I am trying to be romantic and all you can talk about is my research." The professor chuckled.

"I'd like to come back for a little R&R. I'm sure we can find someplace that meets our requirements."

"Then let's solve this case so we can plan our vacation."

Jim pulled Blair to his feet and wrapped his arm over the square shoulders. "Let's go check on that plane."

 


	4. Searching

The floatplane dropped down out of the clouds and landed on the choppy waters in the entrance of a small cove.

Blair leaned on Jim's shoulder as the plane taxied toward the dock. It'd been a bouncy flight and the teacher had leaned on Jim's shoulder the whole flight, as close as the shoulder harness from the second row of seats allowed. Jim had flown shotgun, Blair and Robert sharing the rest of the old Beaver with as much cargo that could be packed in behind the seats.

Two men were on the dock, one waiting with a line to tie up the plane as soon as it stopped and the prop quit turning. A four wheeler with a trailer was parked next to the float; another man perched on the trailer, watching the red Beaver as it drifted into the dock.

Jim dropped out on the plane's float, then balanced himself as he opened the door for Sandburg. He took his partner's backpack and tossed it to the waiting arms.

In return, the man tossed the dock line to Jim and pointed to the cleat on the float at the detective's feet. He watched the detective tie the plane securely to the floating platform, then opened the cargo doors for his helper.

"Welcome to Prince of Wales Island, Professor Sandburg, Detective Ellison. How was your flight? I’m Tim, that’s Scott. We work for Robert in the summer months. He radioed that you were coming." The man who was being so helpful identified himself and the man on the four-wheeler.

"Bumpy." Blair stepped from the airplane float to the floating dock unsteadily. Jim caught his hand and walked with him to solid ground and pushed him down with a soft command of 'sit'.

Tim chuckled at the teacher and started opening the larger cargo door to unload the plane. Jim joined him, taking the boxes from Robert, who remained inside. The men made a human chain to the four wheeler and trailer, stacking supplies until it couldn't hold any more.

"Ready to head up to the cabin?" Robert finished dogging all the doors on the Beaver and untied it, pushing it away from the platform with his foot. They all watched as it drifted into the open water while the pilot fired the noisily piston engine.

Tim motioned for everyone to find places to perch on the four wheeler and the trailer before climbing into the driver’s seat himself. The severely overloaded machine growled its way back up a muddy path and around a few turns as the trail switchbacked and forth up a ridge overlooking the cove.

Robert’s home appeared from around a bend and Blair stared. After seeing Peter’s home he was expecting a small or a similarly sized log cabin. The home nestled in among the huge yellow cedars could not be called a cabin. The anthropologist glanced at his detective partner. Jim’s eyes were studying the multi-layered building, trying to take in the complex in one sweep.

The home was several stories tall, or maybe only two with cathedral ceilings. It stretched over several thousand feet to include equipment buildings, a multi-bay garage, and tiered decks, some covered, some not. A satellite dish was perched on one deck, a radio tower behind it. Three more ATVs were parked in front of the garage building. Dozens of pieces of logging equipment were parked behind a chainlink fence. Fuel tanks and stacks of 55-gallon drums were behind the fence and a generator in its own fenced enclosure. The cabin was constructed of logs ten to fifteen feet in diameter. The double doors were inset into a single log.

The four wheeler chugged to a stop in front of a garage bay and a bay door opened. Two more men ducked under the rising door and started unloading the supplies while the newcomers climbed off the ATV.

Robert headed for the front door, turned and beckoned for his guests. “Come on in. Dana won’t get here for a few days so we men will have to rough it, but I think we can manage.”

Jim glanced at Blair who nodded and slid his pack on his shoulder and followed their host. A boardwalk curved away from the garage, each plank of the sidewalk several feet wide. Blair looked at the size of each log used and shook his head. He had never seen a building built like this one.

Jim joined his partner at the huge double doors and they went in together. Inside they stopped again, not to sure exactly how to take Robert’s home. It was a log cabin with wall to wall carpet and track lighting. Hides of several animals decorated the walls and the floors. A full size grizzly stood next to a stairwell, the animal staring up in greeting to anyone coming down the stairs. Tall windows let the early spring light into all floors. Seating areas were grouped around a fireplace, another one around a large TV, the largest piece of an entertainment center.

Robert was walking through the main room, turning on lights as he went. “I know it looks really huge, but when the logging crew is here, and some of the men’s families, it’s gets crowded really fast. You guys pick a couple of guestrooms upstairs, and make yourselves at home. The power in the bunkhouse part of the complex isn’t on yet. I’ll go see what I can find for food.” He disappeared down a hallway.

Blair waited until their host was out of sight, then glanced up at Jim. “Can you believe this place? In the middle of nowhere!”

Jim nodded, then pushed Blair toward the stairs. “If I was going to build a home in the middle of a jungle, completely self sufficient for weeks or months at a time, it’d probably be something like this.” Jim waved at the house as they climbed the stairs. “It’s the headquarters for a logging company, providing a home for the workers, equipment storage and a communication center. Think of the British colonial days in India or Africa, complexes like these would be the only way a British colony could survive in hostile territory.”

“But this isn’t the 1800s in India, Jim. This is the 21st century, in the US.”

“And I bet if you ask Robert he’ll tell you he’s been building on this since he was a young man, adding on to it and upgrading it as he’s had the money and time.” Jim steered his companion into the first doorway they found at the top of the stairs. Both men froze again. The bedroom contained a huge four poster bed as its centerpiece. The rest of the furniture appeared to be carved out of rough logs, bark still on the cornerposts of the dressers, and the mirror frame. Instead of carpet, the floor was oriental rugs over wood. More skins were draped on a wall, caribou and beaver, instead of prints and photographs. Blair stepped over the threshold and looked back at his partner.

“Want to share a room, Jim? Think the bed’s big enough?” He tossed his pack on the floor in the corner with a grin.

“I think we can manage.” Jim’s pack joined his partner’s. Then he opened the floor length curtains and gazed out over the primeval forest. The view from the second floor included a glimpse of the cove and storm tossed green water. Tall evergreens swayed in the wind. Through the occasional breaks in the trees, a distance ridge was visible, snow on the upper elevations.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it.” Blair slipped an arm around Jim’s waist. “I can understand why someone would want to live here.”

Jim nodded. “Let’s go see if we can take a look around, where John disappeared, where Robert’s people have searched.” Blair nodded at his partner and followed the larger man from the room and down the staircase.

In the main room again, Jim paused, casting about for Robert's presence. His hearing led him to the kitchen where the Native American was unpacking crates of frozen food and loading an upright freezer. Jim made his request and the man looked up from the stack of steaks he was packing on a shelf.

"Sure, go ahead. You armed?"

"Just my service revolver."

Robert snorted. "Noise maker. Grab a rifle off the rack, or at least a high-caliber pistol. Only use it if you have to. Don't run if you encounter a bear, make lots of noise. If you have to shoot one, don't go for the head, aim for a shoulder, knock it off its feet. If you do shoot, don't leave it wounded." Robert stared at the two men. "You do know basic wildlife behavior, right? A bear won't see your spirit animals."

Jim and Blair both nodded. "We'll be back in a couple of hours." They left Robert to his unpacking. Jim paused at the rifle rack that made up almost all of one wall. He studied the selection of high-powered weapons and shook his head. "Think I'll pass. Nice collection, though."

Blair waited for Jim at the huge wood doors, zipping his jacket and pulling his stocking cap out of his pocket. Together they crossed the deck and down the trail to the gravel beach. The trail was soft underfoot, puddles collected in tiny depressions, making walking slippery and treacherous. The huge evergreens towered overhead, cutting the intermittent sunlight even further. Patches of snow still clung to life in the deep shadows, the last gasp of winter still clinging to the ground with a slowly rotting icy grip.

The two men stepped on the beach and stopped to admire the scenery around them. The cove was protected from the receding storm's fury and only a gentle breeze ruffled the water's almost smooth surface. Outside of the protection of the cove, white capped waves marched across the ocean surface.

The gravel was smooth, hand sized stones, each rock evidence of winter's storms and tidal forces. Blair reached down and picked up a gray and white speckled rock the size and shape of a large egg. He ran a finger over it admiring how smooth the granite surface was before dropping it.

Jim was already walking above the high tide mark, stopping to look at tumbled piles of driftwood, held together by fragments of driftnets and monofilement line. He kicked at a few of the smaller pieces and they rolled over, revealing fish carcasses and bones wrapped in the net. He stared down at the remains until he felt his partner's hand on his back.

"You said rotting fish?" Jim looked at Sandburg, one eyebrow on the rise.

"Doesn't prove anything, Jim, except fish were trapped in a net left behind by a fishing vessel." Blair kicked at the pile and several small floats shifted free of the dried kelp and fish skins. "That net could have been ghost-fishing for years."

"Ghost-fishing?"

"Yeah." Blair took the detective's hand and they continued their slow walk over the loose and sliding stones. "That's what they call a net left in the water and never picked up. It keeps trapping fish, whales, whatever, until it either gets so heavy it sinks or so rotten it breaks apart and washes ashore."

They walked the perimeter of the cove, stopping to examine every pile of driftwood, at times picking up plastic bottles and floats, stacking them together so the trash could be collected later. As they walked, Blair rattled on about the environment of the area; the destruction careless dumping was causing, and the history. Jim listened with one ear; the other tuned into the sounds of the cove.

The water on the beach ebbed and flowed across the stones with a hiss, followed by a gurgle as the water receded to the ocean. The cove's resident eagle screed at the intrusion then took wing, the huge wings pumping the bird higher into the sky.

Jim paused at times, listening intently for anything that didn't belong in the wilderness setting, like a heart beat belonging to a frightened child. Blair walked at his side quietly anchoring his sentinel as the man sorted through the sounds and smells surrounding him. They came to a tiny stream that spilled into the rocky beach and spread out into a dozen paths as the water rushed to the sea.

Without hesitation they followed the stream into the forest, using boulders as stepping-stones and downed trees as bridges. Their footsteps were silent in the muskeg-covered ground and disappeared into the springy sponges as soon as their foot left the print.

Devils club brushed against them, the thorny undersides of the leaves scratching exposed skin. Brush alders and blueberry bushes blocked the direct line of the stream, forcing them away from the water’s edge time and time again.

Jim stopped and looked around them. The cove and beach could not be seen and their exploration had led them up a gentle incline and into an alpine meadow. The meadow was full of early spring flowers and young grass, newly green. It was a pocket park, hidden from view unless someone searched for it. A ray of sun broke from the cloud-covered sky and bathed the small meadow in gold light.

“Oh man, what a beautiful spot!” Blair looked at Jim then stepped into the lushness. He slowly spun around face lit with the brief beam of sun. “I can see why the natives want to protect this. Wonder how many people have been here before us?”

Jim shrugged. His sensitive ears had picked up the shuffling gait of a large animal approaching the clearing and he pulled his partner back into the trees, finger on his lips for silence.

They watched as a bear grumbled into the meadow, followed by two tumbling, bouncing cubs. The large animal dropped into the grass and rolled, sniffing and huffing against the wet ground.

Blair watched the sow and cubs with wide-eyed awe, eyes sparkling. “They’re beautiful,“ he whispered. “I’ve never seen a grizzly with cubs in the wild before.”

“Come on. Back away slow. The breeze is in our faces. She can’t smell us and a bear’s eye sight is weak.” Jim kept his hand on the back of Blair’s neck, guiding him back to the stream and retracing their trail.

When they reached the stream, they stopped and listened for the animals they left behind. He shook his head. “They’re still in the field.” Then he looked at Blair’s wide eyes and smiled. “That was pretty special, wasn’t it?”

Blair nodded. He looked at the stream bubbling and chuckling over the rocks. “I was really hoping we’d find a cabin or something.”

“Too easy. Who ever took the little boy wouldn’t have hidden him close.” Jim started back toward the beach, trusting the teacher to follow. “I need to look at some maps, see if there are any other coves with streams making into them. If your visions are accurate, we’ll find John near one.”

“There are probably hundreds of streams making into the ocean from the snowpack, Jim.”

“Maybe. But only ones that are salmon streams, ones that don’t dry up in the summer, are the ones we’re looking for. It might not even be on this island, might be on the mainland close by.”

The two men crashed through the underbrush, not as cautious on their return trip, talking and laughing about nothing in particular as they made their way back to the beach.

Jim picked up a rock and slung it into the waves. Blair followed suit and the two men skipped rocks for a little while in silence.

“So, you want to come back here someday?” Jim hurled another rock as he waited for Blair’s answer.

“Sure, don’t you? It’s beautiful here. Quiet, isolated, very little crime.”

“I’d like to come back, but longer than a vacation.”

Jim looked around, took a deep breath. “I can relax here.”

Blair watched his sentinel, actually seeing some of the strain of a city bleeding off him. He’d always assumed Cascade was Jim’s tribe. But maybe not. Maybe another home somewhere else, not so intense, so full of pressure.

“Do you think you could be happy in a rural area like this?” Blair flung out an arm. “A small town or village somewhere?”

“Could you? Could you be happy teaching in a small school, teaching high school instead of college?”

Blair stopped the arm before it launched another rock. He had a thousand questions, but the biggest one was _why had this subject never come up before, and why was it coming up now?_ He wrapped his arms around the firm waist. “I’ll be happy where ever you are, Jim. If you want to go somewhere else where being a sentinel for your tribe would be easier, I’m all for it.”

Jim accepted the hug, returned it. The hug turned into an embrace, escalated into a passionate, air stealing kiss. Jim slid his hands into the curls, wrapped the locks around his fingers. It was such a novel thing, to be outside in broad daylight, holding and loving his mate. The only time they had allowed themselves to freely express themselves was the safety of the loft or hidden camping sites, far off the maintained trails. But here they were, walking a beach, holding hands and kissing with no concern.

Blair pulled away, panting. His sapphire eyes met the cornflower blue eyes of his taller partner. “Why, Jim? Why now? You haven’t said a word about this idea. Is it something out of the blue, or something you’ve been thinking about for awhile?”

Jim slid his arm over the smaller shoulders; turned them back to the water’s edge and they walked slowly along. “I’m not getting any younger, Chief. Sometimes it’s really hard to stay on top the game. The bad guys are getting younger every day, smarter, more deadly. I get tired, Blair, really tired. I just think we ought to look at different options, other locations. Someplace where you can walk a city street without wondering if a sniper has you in his sights. Someplace where your face isn’t plastered all over the evening news a half dozen times a month.”

“I like this side of you, Jim, more open, more relaxed. If contemplating relocating to a smaller ‘tribe’, makes you happy, then let’s do it. Let’s find the boy and start looking at other options.”

As soon as the words spilled from Blair’s lips, a huge weight Jim didn’t know he was carrying fell away. He hadn’t realized what he wanted until he voiced it, the thoughts hadn’t crystallized until they rolled off his tongue.

“Do you mean it?” Jim met the teacher’s eyes with a surprised expression.

Blair nodded. “Where you go, I go. And if you want to leave Cascade, say the word.”

Jim dropped his head, his forehead touching his mate’s. “Thank you, Chief.” he whispered. “I didn’t know what I wanted until I said it.”

He straightened again and they resumed their walk. “When we get back to the house, we’re going to sit down and talk to Robert. I think we need to lay all our ideas in front of him and see what he thinks. Then we grab some maps and start looking for salmon streams.”

Blair chuckled as Jim outlined a plan of attack. He rubbed his stomach. “What do you say we talk after dinner? It’s been a long time since breakfast.”

Jim nodded. “You’re right. Food would be a good idea.” He cuffed his partner across the back of the head, gently. “Race you.” Then he took off in a sliding, loping run across the rocks.

“Hey!” Blair took off after him, laughing.

***********************

Robert looked up at the sound of footsteps on the deck, followed by the heavy door being flung open, as his two visitors charged in, panting hard.

The older native stretched his back, growling at the soreness he found there and went into the living area to his guests who were removing muddy boots and placing them on a rug just inside the door.

The two Washington residents were slightly damp, jeans muddy from mid-knee down. They were laughing, leaning on a rough beam holding up the cathedral ceiling.

"I take you had a nice hike with no problems?"

Blair nodded, brushing his hair out of his face. "It is so beautiful here. How did you decide to build here?"

"Part of a native allotment settlement. The original building belonged to a logging company that went under years ago. I picked it up during a bankruptcy sale. I’ve added to it, updated it until it can handle a good size crew without a problem. This –“ he swept a hand to encompass everything -“has been a lifetime project.”

Ellison looked at him blankly. “Native allotment?”

"Never mind, it's a long story. It's tribal land. You boys hungry?"

"Starved." Both men sang out, nodding.

"There's some chili on the stove in the kitchen. Come on in." Robert turned back to the dining area, still talking. "When we're in full swing, I have a couple of cooks working for the company, taking care of the workers. Right now, it's just us." The kitchen contained a long counter with barstools. Robert motioned them to the seats while he found large bowls and spoons.

"Must be a tough job, providing meals for loggers." Blair's eyes followed the motion of the ladle from steaming pot to bowl.

"A logging camp turns into its own little community. Several of the wives get hired as cooks, whatever other staff we might need from book-keeper to babysitter."

Jim took the offered bowl of steaming chili, spooned up a large heap of diced onions and shedded cheese. "Babysitters?"

"Some of the men camp nearby and bring their families. It's not anything official, but somebody has to watch out for them. We have a large children's library and playrooms in one of the other buildings."

Jim sniffed the concoction and smiled before shoveling it into his mouth with a sigh of satisfaction.

"You sound like you have a great thing going here, a real sense of community." Blair followed Jim's example, then accepted a hunk of bread from their host.

Robert shrugged and nodded at the same time. "Most of us are related one way or the other. We come from Klawock, Craig, Hydaburg, wherever our homes are, to work for a summer to make enough to get though a winter. During the winter months we have other jobs, either in one of the villages or sometimes in Juneau, Ketchikan, Sitka, even Seattle."

"Doesn't sound like an easy life. Why do you do it?" Blair added more cheese to his bowl, watching Robert's eyes as the man talked.

"In case you haven't noticed, there aren't a lot of cash jobs here. Fishing, logging, tourism, that's about it. You might squeak by on a substance life style, but probably not. Most of the families either work together with each adult contributing or the family survives on government hand outs and the generosity of friends. I log, couple of cousins and uncles fish. We work together to support all our families. When we have a good year, I expand the operation, buy a little extra equipment, and help send the kids to school. When I have a bad year, I might end up working on a fishing boat out of Dutch, hoping for a good trip into the Bering Sea."

"What about Peter and … Daniel?"

"About the same. Daniel works for me when he’s not fishing, leases out his boat some seasons for a percentage of the harvest.

“And Peter?”

"As the tribal shaman, he does everything a priest would do. Marriages, funerals, family counseling. He also oversees the tribal rites, calling forth the spirits for whatever reasons you need spirits for."

Jim finished his bowl of chili, declined seconds. The other two men finished their dinner and they made short work of the few dishes.

Finished with kitchen chores, Jim asked if Robert had any maps of the area. They followed the man into his office/den and waited as he unrolled several tubes of maps and spread them over his worktable.

They studied the various maps, both topographical and nautical. Robert anchored the curls of paper with several desk paperweights and mugs.

He pointed to a worn spot on the edge of the green. "We're here." The spot marked a cabin off of Salt Lake Bay. From the 'x' on the map, several course lines left the bay and measured off the distances to other bays and islands with compass headings marked in red ink. "This is an overview of the area. If we were going out on the water, or by air, I'd have different charts. But it'll be enough to give you a layout of the island."

Jim studied the map for a long time, trying to associate the green and blue with land and water. White indicated glacier covered mountain peaks. There were so many islands full of tiny coves and hidden beaches and streams. Names showing villages and human incursions were few and far between.

Blair's finger trailed along the blue edge of water around the land. "How many of the these villages still exist?"

"Not many. Some may have a few families during summer fishing, setting up a fish camp for a subsistence fishery. Port Alice on Heceta Island has a few year round residents. Of course Klawock and Craig are actually towns."

Jim read off the names he could pronounce. "Warm Chuck Inlet, St. Philip Island, San Cristoval Channel." He shook his head. "Some of this is Russian, some Spanish."

"And Native Alaskan. I take it every place has a couple of names?" Blair pointed to Tuxekan Narrows and Tonowek Bay.

Robert nodded. "Alaska was 'discovered' by the white man many times. When it became a state, Washington renamed our Mt. Denali after a president who had never been here. As if our name wasn't good enough." Robert's tone actually growled a little.

"Denali?" Jim asked.

"Mt. McKinley." Blair murmured. "To the natives, it's known as Denali, the Great One."

Jim nodded in understanding. His eyes were still on the map, mentally putting himself into a kidnapper's shoes. Where in all these wide-open spaces, would he hide a child? The last thought was spoken aloud.

Blair was tracing streams into the higher elevations, trying to see what the wolf had shown him in the dreams. "How familiar are you with the area, Robert?"

Robert shrugged. "I've lived here most of my life." His hand brushed over Sea Otter Sound. "But there are miles of the coast I've never seen. No beach to land a boat, no place to safely tie down a plane."

"It you couldn't, that means a kidnapper couldn't either." Robert agreed with Jim's observation.

"Show me the salmon streams. The ones most threatened by logging." Blair looked into the dark eyes; his own slightly out of focus.

Robert met the shadowy blue eyes and he thought he saw a different type of eye staring back at him, eyes almost lupine in shape. A shiver ran down Robert's back.

"These." He traced Shaheen Creek, Staney Creek and Shinaku Creek. "These will be ones I'll be logging close to."

"And if you don't, the trees will be saved."

"For a little while. Until the next logger comes along."

Blair's fingers traced each mark for the stream, following the line as it twisted and turned. "Can you show us these? Can we go there?"

Robert nodded. "I've got a Zodiac with a 50 hp outboard on a trailer in one of the equipment bays. If the seas have settled down we can go to one or two tomorrow."

Jim eyed the scale at the bottom of the map. "These are about 20 miles from here."

"As the crow flies. But you have got to go around islets, up channels, dodge rocks and time the tides in a couple of places. Going 20 miles can take all day sometimes."

Robert looked at his visitors. The evening sun was beginning to dip below the horizon and the clock in the main room of the house struck 8 pm. Blair was yawning behind his hand, eyes drooping. The older man smiled to himself. The city folks weren't used to Alaska's fresh air. They were going to sleep good tonight.

"Why don't you guys take a shower and go to bed? Morning will come early, especially if we plan to spend it on the water."

Blair yawned again. "It's only 8 pm man. How can I be so exhausted?"

Robert chuckled at the teacher. "Well, let's see, you were up at sunrise, went stomping into the woods first thing, flew from Klawock to here, went stomping out into the woods again, unarmed, I might add." He glared at the cop for a second. "Sounds like a pretty full day to me."

Jim nodded. "He's right, Chief. Plus flying from Seattle the day before. Flying always wears you out."

"It's not flying that wears me out. It's the absolute terror of flying." Robert laughed. "Hope you don't feel that way about boats, Dr. Sandburg."

"Boats are okay. They don't have wings." He yawned again and waved off the laughter from his host. "Okay, I get the message. Maybe an early night would be good." He stared into Jim's eyes, openly making a suggestion to his lover.

"Your rooms have an interconnecting bathroom. Towels and whatever else you might need are in the closet."

Jim nodded to Blair, acknowledging his partner's unspoken statement. "Robert, we only took one room. We're used to bunking together when we're on an investigation. Easier to keep an eye on things."

The Alaskan looked from one to the other and shrugged. "Whatever. I'll have coffee on by 7."

"Sounds good." Blair acknowledged.

They watched as their host disappeared outside again. A few minutes later Jim heard one of the four wheelers start up and pull away.

"Looks like we have the place to ourselves, Chief."

Blair leered. "Yeah, isn't it great?" He pulled his lover away from the table of maps.

Jim came willingly into the sturdy arms and swept Blair into a breath-stealing kiss. He mouthed the sweaty curls for a second and eased out of the embrace. "A shower sounds really good, Chief."

Blair nodded, but kept his arms around Jim's waist. "Bet he doesn't have any problems with running out of hot water." He slipped his hand into Jim's and started pulling the detective toward the stairs.

Blair turned on the water while Jim stacked towels and robes on the vanity counter, along with their shaving kits. He barely got out of his muddy clothes before Blair was pulling him into the shower and under the hot spray.

The shower was wood, cedar planks soaked in oil until the water beaded up and ran down in rivulets. The warm moist air was filled with wet cedar scent and Jim inhaled deeply, loving the fragrance. Blair ducked under the water, soaking his curls while he reached for the shampoo.

Jim wrapped both arms around his lover and shared the warm spray. "I love showers big enough for two, Chief."

Blair nodded, hands lathering his hair, then transferred the soap to his hairy chest and stomach. Jim added his hands to the soap and started on Sandburg's back. Blair leaned into the shower wall and purred his contentment as Jim scrubbed his back.

Jim's hands kneaded and rubbed the firm back and shoulder muscles, sliding up and down, each stroke coming closer and closer to the pale ass cheeks, finally dipping between them with a long finger, teasing the hidden opening there.

"I hope you plan to do more then just scrub my butt,” Blair whispered against the wall, pressing back against the slippery finger.

"You want me too? It's been awhile." Jim added more soap to his fingers, slid one into the rosebud, teasing and pumping slightly.

Blair rocked against the intruder, groaned slightly. "Oh yeah. More, Jim. Please. It's been too long."

"Okay, babe, I can do this." Jim was careful, stretching and relaxing his younger lover, taking the time to make sure Blair would enjoy their lovemaking. Blair trembled and moaned against Jim's fingers, making whimpering noises and begging for more.

"Here I come, baby." Jim slid his cock into the slippery channel in one slow glide until he was nestled against Blair's ass with a groan of pleasure.

"Yes, good. Jim, move. Love me, yes." Blair's voice dropped off into unintelligible mutterings as he rocked back against his lover, trying to force Jim deeper into his body.

Jim reached around his lover's squirming body and directed the shower spray off of them, then took Blair firmly around the waist with one arm, his other sliding up and down the younger man's throbbing erection. Blair was caught between the two sensations and howled in pleasure, his voice echoing in the bathroom.

"You like that, don't you, Chief? You like playing push me-pull you." Jim's voice was a throaty chuckle. "I like it when you howl for me. Makes me want to last a long time." He slowed his motions down, forcing Blair to be still as he gentled his strokes, both inside and out.

"Don't stop, Jim. Please don't stop. Need this, want this, need you." Blair tried wiggling, pushing against the hard body holding him, moaning and arching against the soap covered hand wrapped around him.

"Patience, lover. We'll get there." Jim grinned into his lover's wet hair, pushing it to one side of the wet neck with his nose and biting gently, then sucking.

"Yesyesyes, good. More." Blair braced himself against the shower wall and pushed against Jim, making his demands very obvious.

"Okay, babe." Jim lengthen his strokes, changing the angle slightly, beginning to piston into the firm body surrounding him, hand on Blair's cock keeping the same rhythm. It didn't take long before Jim was over the edge with Blair erupting all over Jim’s hand and wall with another howl.

Both men sagged against the wall and Jim reached up, found the showerhead and turned the warm water back on them while they panted for breath.

"If I wasn't exhausted before, I am now." Blair pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. Then he hugged Jim tight. "I love you, Jim."

Jim hugged him back. "Love you, Chief. Let's get some sleep."

********************************

Morning found the team bundled into Mustang suits and heading into rock filled channels between the large islands and the islets around Prince of Wales Island. Fog hung low over the water, not yet burned off by the early sun and visibility was limited to several hundred yards. The three men picked their way through the rocks, keeping their speed down. The rocks glistened at the water's edge, kelp floating in the calm eddies, and sea otters nestled in the tendrils as they munched on their breakfast.

Jim touched his lover on the arm, pointed to the family of floating otters as they cruised by. Robert cut the engine and drifted for a moment so they could watch the mother and very young pup. The pup was lying on its mother's stomach, tiny eyes peering up at the noisy thing that intruded on its breakfast.

Blair nodded, then accepted a pair of binoculars from Robert so he could see the animals better. "Aren't they cute?"

Robert almost growled. "You wouldn't say that if you were a fisherman dependent on claims, crabs, and mussels. They have to eat almost continuously."

Blair handed back the spyglasses. "They were here first. We almost destroyed the species once already." His tone was argumentative.

"Chief, don't start." Jim patted Blair on the arm. "Robert's people are more dependent on the land and sea than we are. When in Rome..."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry, Robert." Blair offered a smile and Robert nodded.

Robert looked at the open water that was visible from the protected passage and turned the wheel, angling the zodiac back between another series of islets. "The water is still rough where there's a good fetch. We'll stay inside the islands as long as possible."

"Where are we headed?" Jim grabbed for a line at the side of the zodiac, balancing himself as the zodiac swerved to miss a rock barely under the water.

Robert pulled a well-laminated chart from a pocket under the steering console and handed it to Jim, pointing out a well-marked track. "I thought we'd swing up Tonowek Bay and through the narrows. By the time we get there, high tide should be about slack and we can go partway up Shaheen Creek. But if the fog doesn't lift in the next two hours, we won't make it. It's real easy to get turned around in all these channels. Even with a portable GPS, you can get lost." He kicked the engine back into gear and they started back into deeper water.

The drone of the outboard kept conversation to a minimum but Jim picked out eagles perched on tree limbs and sea lions hauled out on rocks in various spots. He pointed out the wildlife as he saw it, smiling and laughing at Sandburg's reaction to each new sighting. Robert pointed to the largest island in the channel.

“That’s Harmony Island. We’ll go between it and the mainland. Keep your eyes open for whales. There were a couple of minkie in the area this last week. They tend to sleep just below the surface and just float up to take a breath. It’s too early in the summer for humpbacks.” Robert slowed the Zodiac to a near drift as he maneuvered around the exposed rocks and tiny islets with the occasional tree.

Blair glanced at his lover. "I've never seen a whale, except on TV. That would be awesome, to see a creature like that, up close."

"If we're lucky, not too close. They can flip a boat this size without even knowing we're here." Robert shot the teacher an amused glance. "Is everything an adventure with you, Dr. Sandburg?"

Jim cuffed his lover across the back of his head, almost knocking off the stocking hat barely containing the curls. "Life is an adventure for Sandburg." The cop grinned.

The zodiac zigged and zagged through the channel, sometimes speeding across the clear ocean water, other times picking their way through the protruding chunks of granite covered with seaweed. The men not used to the vastness or wildness of the land, kept pointing and exclaiming over each new vista that opened up in front of them. The channel around Harmony Island opened up to the larger channel of Tonowek Bay. Robert threw the outboard into neutral and pointed toward a shoreline.

Jim zoomed in on what Robert's knowledgeable eyes had spotted and handed Sandburg the binoculars. Blair followed the sentinel's pointing finger, finally seeing a dark shape in the water. He was ecstatic when the dark shape suddenly spouted a long spray of breath into the air, before sinking under the surface again.

"It'll be back in a few minutes, just watch." Robert advised the younger man. "And keep an eye out for the other one. It's probably close." Robert was scanning the water in a slow 360, eyes looking for a long dark shape moving along the surface.

Jim heard it before they saw it, and turned quickly to look behind them at the 'whoosh' of a whale just breaking the surface. He tapped Blair on the shoulder and turned him around, eyes never leaving the dark body about 75 feet behind their zodiac. The whale sank again.

Blair's mouth was open. "Where is it? Can you see it through the water? Can you hear it?"

Jim nodded. He was watching the dark shadow as it cruised by them, ten or twelve feet underwater, less than fifty feet away. He glanced at Robert. "Should we move?"

"No. It hears the engine, it knows we're here. I stopped the prop in case it gets too close. Just hang on to something if it decides to surface close. The wake of its body could throw you overboard."

Sandburg tried to watch the shadow of the closest one, and still keep his focus on the sleeping one close to shore. "How close will they get?"

"As close as they want. This is their ocean, not ours." Robert was watching the shadow, murmuring under his breath.

Sandburg could see their hosts lips move but couldn't hear the words over the engine. He nudged Jim. "What's he saying?"

Jim cocked his head, listening, then bent to Sandburg's ear. "He's telling the whale that he's sorry he intruded on their rest, and we're leaving very soon."

Sandburg nodded. He understood the importance of the whale in the culture they were currently involved with. The teacher watched in awe as the whale's back broke the surface and it blew. The animal was less then 20 feet away and it was twice as long as the zodiac they were on.

"Oh, man! It's huge!" Blair dropped the binoculars and was digging frantically into his backpack for his camera. "Jim, where's the camera?"

"In my hands, Chief." Ellison calmly aimed the digital camera at the animal and took several shots. Then the detective watched the huge mammal, convinced the animal was watching them. Sandburg stood next to his partner in silence.

The whale blew again, then sank, back barely arching as it slipped beneath the cold waters. The next time it surfaced, it was close to the one near the shore. The other whale seemed to acknowledge its companion.

"Are they mates?" Ellison watched the animals, feeling something very deep, very primal, within.

Robert shrugged. "Don't know. How do you ask a whale the question?" The Alaskan put the engine back into gear and calmly took the boat into the open waters. Sandburg and Ellison stayed focused on the whales until the curve of the channel took them out of sight.

The open water was flat and dark green as they continued along the coast until they could see a stream flooding out from a rocky beach. The zodiac drifted to a stop at the mouth of the rushing stream. After a minute of drifting, the boat began to drift in circles, caught in the salt water trying to rush into the stream and the fresh water trying to rush out.

"The tide is still coming in, but it's almost slack." Robert pointed at the depth sounder that was blinking seven feet. "We'll go upstream for a little while. The water will stay plenty deep for a couple miles or so, after that we'll have to be careful. We'll have to turn around before the tide turns. If we wait, we could get caught and end up aground. I'm not interested in camping out until high tide.

He checked the fuel in the outboard tank, then tipped the outboard up and checked the prop. He lowered the prop back into the water and started the engine again. Robert leaned into Ellison and yelled.

"You know how to tell when there is a submerged rock?"

Jim flinched away from the yell and nodded. "Disturbances on the water's surface. Swirls or rolling water."

Robert nodded. "If you see anything, sing out. I'd hate to lose a prop."

Jim nodded, went back to watching the water and scenery. Robert had cut the speed on the zodiac and kept one eye on the depth sounder and one eye on the shore.

Blair's eyes were on the shore, one hand wrapped around a rope handhold, the other holding the binoculars close to his eyes. As soon as they rounded a bend, the ocean disappeared and they were on a land locked river. Ellison smiled at Blair's wide-eyed expression.

"It's just as remote as the Amazon," he whispered.

"Just colder,” Ellison nodded.

Blair reached over and touched their guide on the back. "How many people have been here?"

Robert shook his head. "It's not as remote as it looks. In the summer, flight seeing and Eco-tours are all over the place. In the fall, there's hunting, and of course, the fishing fleet all summer and fall. The only time it's really quiet is the winter. April is the last month we have the state to ourselves until winter sets in again.

Blair stared at the native, not understanding the statement. He looked at his partner, his eyes full of questions, then back to Robert.

Robert looked at the young man. "You don't live in a state that gets invaded during the summer months. Most of us are very happy to see September arrive so we can have peace and quiet again."

Blair still stared at the Native American, not too sure how to answer the statement or if there was an answer needed.

The beach came into view after several minutes of slowly running up stream. The stream had narrowed considerably and their speed slowed as they dodged rocks and overhanging trees.

Blair grabbed Jim's arm and pointed. "That's the beach! This is where my wolf showed me the kid!"

Robert looked at Sandburg, then nosed the zodiac close to the rocks. He killed the engine and Jim tilted it up as the nose of the little vessel nudged the submerged stones.

Blair splashed ashore with the inflatable's painter line and tied it around a convenient tree.

Robert and Jim hopped out of the small boat and helped pull the vessel onto the beach, out of the water. Blair looked around at the stone covered beach. The beach was a tiny pocket among the cliff faces and tree-covered rocks. He slid as he tried to walk on the hand-sized, round, granite gravel. Large piles of driftwood were tumbled above the high-tide line. Blair's eyes were drawn to the bleached logs and dried kelp. His feet followed his eyes and he scrambled toward the logs.

"Blair! Wait!" Jim dashed up the steep incline, boots churning on the slippery rocks. Jim's heart was in his throat as he rushed toward his partner. Blair was clambering over the large logs, disappearing from sight. Jim was trying to listen to his partner and for any hazard Blair was approaching.

Blair was climbing over the logs, looking into the deep shadows. All he was finding was trash, the mummified remains of sea gulls, rotting fish carcasses and pieces of nets.

By the time Jim got to his younger partner, Blair had surveyed the entire pile of driftwood and was standing on the largest piece, hands on his hips, looking disgusted.

"He's not here,” he complained to Jim when the older man arrived.

Jim leaned against a log as big around his waist and panted for breath. "Don't do that to me, Chief. Supposed you did find the boy and he was being guarded? What would you have done?"

Blair looked at his red-faced partner, then shrugged. "Don't know. I'd have thought of something. Or maybe my wolf would have." Sandburg climbed down from his log and went to his partner.

Robert arrived, huffing as his feet slid through the slippery stones.

"Anything?" He looked hopefully at the two men.

Blair shook his head.

Jim looked at the two men facing him. "Did you expect it to be this easy? Every place that could be searched by the troopers and the volunteer search teams has been." Jim looked around them. "This is too open."

Blair looked around the rocky beach, heart in his throat. Could they have come all this way and be wrong? Had his visions been wrong?

"How much further can we go upstream? Jim looked at the stream, trying to visualize the map he’d studied earlier.

"Maybe a mile. The tide will turn in another hour and we’ll have about an hour of slack. We’ll have to be heading back by the time slack is over. We wait to long and we won't have enough water to use a prop. We bust a prop on a rock, it'll be a long row back to the cabin."

"Let's go as far as we can." Blair started back toward the zodiac. "Maybe there is another stream that feeds into this one."

Robert and Jim exchanged glances, then shrugged and followed Sandburg. It took the three of them to push and pull the skiff into the water deep enough to lower the outboard and start the engine. The outboard caught on the first try and they started slowly back up the stream, all eyes looking at beaches and small creeks that fed the larger stream they were in. Finally, Robert shook his head.

“Sorry guys, this is about as far as we can go with the engine. We have to turn around.” He spun the wheel on the steering pedestal as he spoke and spun the skiff around, crossing their wake.

“What about your son?” The words were out of Blair’s mouth without thinking.

“Nobody is more worried about John than I am.” Robert spoke harshly. “If we don’t find him, I’ll do what the kidnappers ask. I’ll shut the operation down and walk away, if that’s what it will take to bring him back to me. He’s been missing for days and you’re the only ones who have offered me any hope.” He firewalled the throttles. “I’m not an emotional man, Dr. Sandburg. But I am practical. They kidnapped my son to make me do something. If we don’t find him in the next day or two, I’ll call my crew, tell them I’m not logging this year and let them all go. Then I’ll sell the company, take what money I can get for it, and start over somewhere else. It won’t be the first time I’ve started over. As long as my family is safe, I don’t really care.” The zodiac raced back down the stream for a few minutes, zigzagging around obstacles before Robert got his anger under control and slowed down. "I’m sorry, guys. You have no idea how hard this is on Dana and myself. John was unexpected. We’d given up on having children when Dana became pregnant. The clan was quite excited over him. Our population is so small, and each generation has less and less to look forward to by claiming their heritage. If we lose him over something as inconsequential as money, it will be more than a loss to me, but the remaining clan will be devastated as well.”

Blair was nodding. “It always happens with aboriginal tribes. Progress marches over the small cultures, and no matter how hard the culture fights, in the end, they lose. All you have to do is look at history.”

They could see the open sea channel from the stream bed in the distance. Robert slowed the skiff and looked at another stream that flowed into the one they were in. He turned the skiff into it, looking at his watch as he did.

He looked back over his shoulder. “I know we were looking for salmon streams that don’t dry up in the summer, but this one is a pretty good size stream most of the year. It doesn’t always go dry and it has a small silver run.” He navigated around some big rocks. “We’ll take a few minutes, see if we can find something.” He slowed the boat down to a crawl; almost going sideways against the current as the tide started to change. With the salt water starting to recede, the fresh water current started to push against the hull, trying to force the nose back downstream.

“We can’t stay long.” Robert pushed the throttle open a little more, holding position against the tide, then slowly making headway. The skiff fought its way up the stream until it was obvious that they were going to run out of deep water very quickly.

Blair was watching the beaches and rocks crawl by, trying not to let the rushing water and shore give him vertigo. Huge trees overhung the stream and they had to duck the branches as they went by. Sandburg kept hoping they’d round a bend and he’d see the remains of a cabin. The longer they went up the tiny stream, the less likely it seemed he would find it this trip.

Robert finally let the current turn them around. He looked at his two guests. “We’ll try again tomorrow.” But his voice reflected his disappointment in their expedition.

Jim looked around them. He hated to leave with nothing for their efforts. “Why don’t we find a spot, pull up on a beach and have some food? We haven’t taken a break all day, and I for one could use a rest stop.”

The other men nodded and Robert headed the zodiac into the first bit of rock beach they found. He nosed the craft close, looked at the depth sounder.

“We have to tie the boat up in deep water. If we pull it up, we’ll be carrying it out to deep water when we leave. Better to tie it to a tree, then pull it in when we need it.” Robert looked at his watch. “We’re pushing it if we here longer than 45 minutes to an hour. After that, there will be places where we’ll have to pull the engine up and row.”

It took several minutes of work to get the little boat positioned for an easy retrieval and cast-off. The men grabbed a cooler full of sandwiches and drinks, then climbed the steep rocky beach to a log half buried in the gravel. They dug through the food and settled down for a snack, eyes watching the water rolling by the beach. Without the engine noise, the world around them was silent and slowly nature’s sounds filled in around them. An eagle soared overhead and several gulls drifted to a landing close by, watching the humans for a tossed morsel.

Jim looked at the sky, watching the racing clouds close over the sun that had tried to shine for a moment. The white orb came and went, casting shadows for a second before disappearing again. He let his guard down on his senses, experiencing the wilderness as totally as he could for a moment. The silence was suddenly noisy and he pulled back, dialing his hearing down to normal as the rush of water almost overwhelmed him.

Sandburg was watching his partner with a small smile. Jim used his senses easily after years of struggling with them. The detective would often dial up a sense to experience something totally, then try to explain the experience to his companion, stumbling over descriptive words that failed to clarify the level of his ability. Blair finished his sandwich, leaned back against the log and closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the peace around him. He understood why Jim had suddenly expressed a desire to leave the large noisy city and return to something as serene as their current surroundings. He felt the pull himself. He opened his eyes at a sound, expecting Jim or Robert to be standing over him, urging him to get up.  His eyes met the blue eyes of his wolf, standing on a rock. The wolf looked at him, then darted into the woods.

Blair startled awake. Jim and Robert were finishing their sandwiches and drinks. The skiff was still floating in its deep pool. The sun hadn’t moved from it’s position in the sky. Blair stumbled to his feet and headed toward the woods.

“Chief? What’s wrong? Where are you going?” Jim was on his feet in a flash, two steps behind his partner as Blair jumped over a pile of driftwood. Robert shuffled to his feet and followed.

Blair paused at the edge of the woods, and looked over his shoulder at Jim. “The wolf. I saw my wolf. This way.” Then he dashed into the undergrowth.

“Sandburg! Will you please wait? You can’t go crashing – “ Jim managed to catch his partner before he went much further. Jim swung the younger man around and grabbed both arms. “You can’t just run into this, Chief. We could be outnumbered and outgunned. Let’s take it slow, okay?”

Blair looked into his lover’s eyes and read the determination there, then nodded. “So, what do you want to do?”

“We go slow. First, we’ve got to get our gear off the boat. Then, if your wolf can show us a trail, we’ll scout the area, see what we can find.” Jim turned Blair back toward the beach and met Robert coming to meet them.

“What’s going on?” Robert made an about-turn and followed the two men back to their lunch spot. He watched as both of them threw the food stuff into the cooler and started for the skiff.

Jim tried explaining on the way to the zodiac that they had picked up what might be a trail and were going to check it out. Robert nodded and raced ahead of them to grab the towline and pull the inflatable to shore.

 


	5. Rescue

Blair hefted his backpack and slipped it over his shoulders while Jim snapped his shoulder holster in place and loaded his handgun. He slipped two extra clips into Blair’s pack and zipped the pocket closed. Then Jim pulled his parka back on, added another gun to a pocket.

Robert stopped beside them, a high-powered rifle slung across his shoulder, a pack on his back. He had pulled off the float coat he’d been wearing and was in a camouflage parka over topping a hooded green sweatshirt.

“This may be a wild goose chase,” Jim cautioned the anxious father.

“He’s my son. You’re not going to leave me behind.” Robert was adamant. “Besides, I know the area. We may have to hide out or take a different route to get back to the boat.”

Jim nodded. “Okay, but stay close. If we find John, you take him and start back here. We’ll cover you.”

“Dr. Sandburg, you’re not even armed.” Robert looked at Sandburg as Blair retied his hair and pulled on fingerless gloves.

“Never stopped me before.” Blair grinned at the worried man.

Silently they towed the inflatable along the beach until they found a spot underneath a overhanging tree where they could hide it safely in deep water and tied it to the tree. Robert checked his watch again. “We bought a little time, there’s a deep channel that will have water in it with a low tide. We may still have to row, but not very far.”

Blair took point, leading them back to where he’d seen his spirit animal disappear into the woods. He didn’t really have a direction, more of a feeling of the way they should go. The tall evergreens cut out the afternoon sun and it was dim as they walked through the deep forest. The water sounds faded quickly as they left the beach.

Jim watched his partner, a little uneasy at the way Blair was charging through the brush. On his best days, Sandburg confused directions. In this new environment, it would be very easy to walk in a circle. He wished he could see the wolf that Sandburg was trusting so easily. He was still very uncomfortable trusting the jaguar that stalked his dreams.

“Chief?” Jim called. “Hold up a second.” Jim stopped his partner’s progress with a hand on Blair’s shoulder. “Do you see the wolf? Are you following it?”

Blair looked at his partner. “No, just a feeling that says this direction.”

Jim shook his head. “I don’t see any sign of a trail or any sign that anyone has ever been here.”

“Jim – I just know, okay?”

“Chief, I believe you. But before we go any further, take a deep breath and see if you can see the wolf. Make sure. We don’t want to spend the day walking in circles.”

Blair studied his partner, reading the taller man’s determination in the pale blue eyes. He nodded fractionally and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths, mentally relaxing himself.

Jim waited and watched, as Blair centered himself. It still awed him how easily Sandburg could reach into himself and touch the part of him who was the shaman. His musings were interrupted when he felt something brush against his leg and he looked down. The jaguar looked back at him, lazy feline eyes blinking at him. The large cat left him and trotted to the wolf sitting next to Blair.

Sandburg opened his eyes and looked down. His hand automatically dropped to the gray head. He glanced at Jim.

“Do you see them, Jim?”

Jim nodded. “Guess we’re on the right track.”

Robert approached the two men, looking from one to the other. “I don’t see anything,” he mumbled. “But if you say your spirit animals are here, I believe you.” He rubbed his eyes. “Peter would have a fit if he heard you say your spirit animals are here and he couldn’t see them.”

Blair ruffled the long fur. “Do you know what your spirit animal is?”

Robert shook his head. “I never asked Peter to find out for me. There are some things you’re better not knowing.”

The animals touched noses then trotted deeper into the forest, side by side. The men followed without question.

It was fifteen minutes later when Jim’s sensitive nose led him to the first signs of human habitation. His nose led him to a shallow trench being used as a latrine. The sentinel turned away, trying to breathe shallowly as he got upwind of the stench.

Robert found the trail first, scouting in a circle around the latrine. The trail was visible because of several broken twigs on a branch at shoulder height and a footprint. The three men gathered around and looked at the print. It was a small foot, in sneakers. Jim took point from then on, eyes casting for more obvious signs of human passage. He spotted the collapsed cabin through the trees first. He held up his hand, then motioned for the others to join him behind a clump of alders. The three stared at the pile of logs and tin.

“John is in there?” Robert whispered.

Blair looked at Jim, placed his hand on his partner’s back. Grounded by his guide, the sentinel focused his sensitive hearing toward the cabin. Sandburg held his breath, willing Jim to hear at least one heartbeat.

“I’ve got three heartbeats. One’s real fast, like a child.” Jim looked down at his partner, crouched at his side. “There’s a boat on the way, I can hear an engine.”

“What do we do?” Robert looked at the detective, then back to the cabin. “If we wait, they may move him. Or bring in reinforcements.”

Blair was nodding, but he was looking at his sentinel. “How many men on the boat with the engine?”

“Chief, that’s tough, picking out heartbeats over an outboard. I doubt if I can filter out the whine to get any type of accuracy.”

Robert shook his head. “If they’re coming up a branch of this stream to get to the cabin, they’ll probably have to cross some type of gravel bar. The tide is going out. If it was me, I wouldn’t trust the water depth for a prop. I’d pull the engine up, row over the bar, then drop the engine again. They’ll need the engine to go against the current. Try when the engine is quiet.”

“If they kill it. If they try coming upstream. If there is a stream. What’s going to stop them from pulling up on a beach, and hiking in?” Jim looked at the Indian. He held his tongue further, knowing that Robert was itching to move forward, rush to his son’s side.

“There is a stream.” Blair whispered, his eyes not quite focused. “It’s not very deep.”

Jim tilted his head. “The engine’s stopped.” Jim closed his eyes and Blair’s hand slid from the sentinel’s back to his arm, latching to the bare wrist. “I can hear four separate splashes. They are dragging something.”

“Their skiff,” Robert whispered. “The water’s too shallow to use it.”

Jim opened his eyes and stood up. “They’re walking up the streambed. We’ve got a few minutes. There are two guards on the boy. Robert, Sandburg and I are going to either take them out or draw them off. As soon as it’s clear, grab your son and get back to our skiff. Stay low, stay quiet. Don’t leave a trail that they can track. When you get close to where we left the boat, hide. If we’re being chased, we’ll give the kidnappers the slip, then join you.”

“You don’t know the area. How are you going to find our skiff?”

Blair slipped his pack to the ground and took Jim’s spare ammo out of the pockets. “If we’re not there in an hour, head for the ocean. Come around and find their skiff on the beach. We’ll be waiting.”

Robert nodded. “In an hour that creek is going to be so shallow, we’ll have to row out, or portage to the ocean.” He shook his head as he took his rifle off safety. “Least we’ll be quiet.”

Jim darted toward the pile of wood and tin first, took up position in a shadow and motioned Blair to join him. When Blair was beside him, Jim motioned for him to stay still, then he crawled toward a dark cavern entrance under three pieces of timber braced against each other and a few boulders. He braced himself against a log and kicked at a piece of tin which partly sheltered the entrance. The rattling tin could be heard over the tiny clearing. Jim glanced at his partner, who was braced with a length of tree limb like a baseball bat, ready to clobber anyone who got past his partner. Robert was on his stomach, rifle to his shoulder, still partially hidden in the alders. Jim nodded to both men, kicked the tin again.

There was a shuffling sound from underneath the pile of timbers and tin. Jim clearly heard two male voices arguing over whose turn it was to deal with the local wildlife. Footsteps over dirt and wood started for the opening. Jim nodded to his partner.

A dirty Asian crawled out of the pile of timbers, pushing a rifle in front of him. “Bear, I swear this time you’re dead,” he yelled as he stuck his head up, picking up his rifle. He swung his head around, just in time to meet Blair’s eyes before the log caught him in the face. He fell without a sound, and Jim caught the rifle. Together they dragged the man clear of the entrance and around to the side.

Jim listened again. “The other four are getting real close. We’ve only got a few seconds. Think the other guy will think it’s a bear?”

Blair shrugged. Jim looked at his partner, pointed the rifle into the air and fired off two rounds. Then he opened his mouth and screamed. Blair jumped. They looked at each other, grinning, then took position on either side of the entrance. Jim looked at Blair and mouthed “he’s coming.”

The second guard barreled out of the entrance, rifle in hand, pulling on a shirt as he crawled out. Jim grabbed the rifle and swung it around, hitting the guard with the stock. The guard fell in a heap and Blair pulled him next to the other one. He pulled a belt off of one of the unconscious men and tied hands together. He grabbed another belt and started on feet. Sandburg looked up as Robert darted into the hole, came out with his son, and kept right on running. The woods erupted with voices from the new arrivals as they saw the rescuers. A rifle went off and Blair ducked instinctively. Yells and curses in a foreign language filled the air.

“Run, Chief!” Jim drew his pistol and fired over his shoulder as he darted after his partner. They crashed into the alders and took off in a sprint, breaking tree limbs as they went, making a well marked trail.

“Are they following us?” Blair panted out, pausing against a tree trunk for a second.

Jim nodded. “I don’t think they saw Robert with the boy, but they didn’t see him with us either. They gotta know someone else is with us, who has the kid, because he’s not where they left him.”

“But they’re not splitting up?” Blair leaned on his knees, gulping air.

“Not yet.” Jim was listening, hand in the air, motioning Blair to be silent. Then he tapped Blair on the shoulder and started a slow walk deeper into the woods. “Now they’re splitting up. Two are on us, two are trying to find Robert’s trail. We’ve got to lose these two, then double back.” He pointed at Blair’s feet. “No trail, Chief, no tracks. Step carefully, don’t break any twigs and wherever you can, use rocks.” Jim was all sentinel now, the warrior used to jungle warfare. Blair did his best to imitate his partner’s steps. They moved silently for several minutes, moving slowly, checking behind them frequently to be sure their passage could not be detected.

Jim stopped them, pointed to a large tree blown down from a storm. The center branches were as large as Jim’s waist. He made a hoisting motion to Blair, pointed toward the join between branch and trunk. Blair nodded and quietly stepped into the stirrup Jim made with his hands and was boosted into the tree. Then he reached down, braced himself and grabbed Jim’s raised arm, helping the detective up beside him. They hid and waited.

Jim was listening intently, vaguely aware of Blair’s hand in his as a focal point. He could hear two of the men crashing through the forest, voices calling back and forth as they tried to find their quarry. Jim tapped Blair’s ear and looked at him, questioning silently.

Blair shook his head, silently pointed at Jim. Jim nodded. He pointed in the direction he was hearing voices from. Their pursuers were on either side of Jim and Blair’s trail, but still heading in their direction. After a few moments, Blair tapped his ear and nodded. Jim grinned at him. Over the years, they had worked out a silent sign language that stood them in good stead during dicey situations. They used it without thinking, which sometimes drove Simon crazy because he didn’t know what they meant.

Jim's sight, piggybacked on his hearing, zoomed through the trees, and spotted the two men. They were getting further and further off their trail. He held Blair’s wrist with one hand, and pointed at their pursuers, tracking them as they safely passed by their hiding place. Blair followed Jim’s pointing hand, then finally nodded as he caught the movement of black against the green. The two men sat in the tree, holding hands until the hunters were out of Jim’s hearing range. Then Jim dropped from his perch and turned to catch Blair as he jumped. Together they started back to the clearing and the remains of the cabin.

They broke into the clearing and Jim froze, scanning the area for new intruders. The men they had flushed from the interior of the collapsed log structure were where they had left them. Silently, they tied the two men securely and gagged them with a piece of a shirt. Then they dragged them inside the pile of logs and tin.

The interior was barely high enough for Blair to stand upright. The log cabin had fallen forward when it collapsed, leaving the interior of the one room structure almost intact. The kidnappers had added three sleeping bags, a couple of rickety tin chairs, a table and kerosene lantern. There was a cooler in a corner, a backpack, several rifles with shells and a couple heavy coats hanging from bent nails. A loop of rope was around the leg of the table, which contained several coloring books and crayons, a puzzle and a checkerboard.

Jim sniffed around the dark hole, shaking his head. “They must have planned to be here awhile.” He lifted up the lid of the cooler. Inside was a block of ice, milk and eggs, some sodas and a couple of beers. “They must have re-supplied fairly frequently, or else they were planning to move the boy soon.” He looked into a carton, held up a can of stew. Blair pointed toward a two-burner propane stove and a couple of pans in another corner, along with a jug of water.

“See if there is any id in any pockets. Look around for any paperwork that might give us an idea who these guys are working for.” Jim kept searching the logs, finding matches stashed on a log, flashlights on another, a can of lamp-oil. He glanced at Blair as Sandburg emptied the pockets on the two men tied up and dumped the contents on the floor. His search came up with wallets and keys. He tossed the wallets to Jim.

Jim opened them, compared faces to photos. He squinted at the names, his eyes dilating to take advantage of as much of the dim light as possible. “Oriental names, Seattle addresses, post office boxes. When we get back to civilization, I’ll have the local authorities run them down.” He tucked the wallets in his jacket and motioned Blair to leave.

Blair looked down at the two men who were beginning to stir. “We going to leave them like this?”

“We don’t have a choice. We’ve got two guys looking for us, two looking for Robert and the kid, a boat to locate and disable. I want to make sure we strand them long enough for the local police to get here.” He pushed Blair into the light.

“That could be days, Jim.” Blair squinted into the light, trying to will his eyes to adjust. Jim nodded and held up his hand for silence. He scanned the area again, then nodded toward the edge of the woods.

“Get your pack, Chief and let’s go find a boat. The other two are still trying to track Robert and our two are having a shouting match over there somewhere.” Jim waved toward the woods and grinned a sly smile. “I think they’re lost.”

The two men trotted toward the sound of a small stream, then followed it to the ocean. They found an aluminum skiff perched high on rocks that the receding tide had uncovered. Carefully, they picked their way over the bladder kelp and slimy seaweed. Jim started to climb into the skiff, but it rocked dangerously and Jim let go of it. The boat slid sideways, finally wedged against a barnacle covered boulder. Jim pushed on it, trying to make it rock. When it stayed steady, he climbed over the boulders and into the flat bottom and started poking around.

Blair was studying the outboard’s prop hanging in the air. After a moment he dug out his Swiss army knife and began working on the bent cotter keys holding the prop to the shaft. After a few minutes he had the prop in his hands. He held it up for Jim to see, then tossed it in the water.

Jim pulled the engine cover off the outboard, and after a few minutes, held up the spark plug and coil wire. Both of those followed the prop with a splash. Then he handed Sandburg the oars. Blair walked them to the water’s edge and gave them a mighty heave. The oars floated off shore and soon the tide started carrying them away.

When Blair returned, Jim held up cans of food for Sandburg to see. “This was the kidnapper’s supply run. Either they were going to keep John here until things were resolved or else they regularly stock the cabin. It could be a bad weather refuge when they are fishing.”

“So we’re not hurting them by stranding them here. They have supplies.” Jim hopped down from the boat and almost fell as his feet hit the wet kelp. Blair caught his partner’s arm and held on until Jim got his balance.

“They’ll be all right until we send back the local police or whatever they have here for police. Now we just have to find Robert and the boy.” Jim tapped Blair on the face, then leaned in and stole a quick kiss because he felt like it.

Blair leaned into the firm lips, sighing at the gentle touch. Then Jim pulled away and cocked his head, listening. His hands were still on Blair’s face.

“I hear Robert’s outboard.” Jim’s hand slid down the length of Blair’s arm and took his hand. They picked their way over the slimy, barnacle encrusted rocks, heading for the water.

The skiff came around a rocky outcropping and nestled as close to the rocks as Robert could get and still have the prop in the water. Jim and Blair climbed on a large rock and with careful maneuvering, stepped into the boat without getting their feet too wet. Robert put the engine in reverse and backed out into deeper water.

Blair knelt on the zodiac floor and looked into the brown eyes of the young boy wrapped in a space blanket. “I’m Blair. You must be John.” He stuck out his hand which was taken in a firm grip.

John nodded. “Dad said you and your friend came to help find me because Uncle Peter had a dream.” The voice didn’t quiver and the eyes that met Sandburg’s were bright and intelligent.

Blair glanced at Jim, then looked back. “That’s right. He brought me a wolf carving, like the one on your nightstand.”

John nodded, pulled his blanket a little closer. “My wolf friend kept bringing a big wolf to see me. He would sniff me all over, lick my face then go away again. Is he your wolf?”

Blair chuckled. So John could see spirit animals without any training or help. This put a new spin on things. “It’s more like I belong to him. Are you all right? Hungry?”

The boy shook his head. “They didn’t want to hurt me. They wanted Dad to do something.”

Jim balanced carefully on the pontoon and leaned over the small boy. “Did they tell you what they wanted your Dad to do? Did you know any of them?”

John shook his head again. “They didn’t speak English too good. The men you hit stayed with me most of the time. We played checkers and they listened to the radio a lot.”

While they talked to the rescued child, Robert had turned them back into deep water and opened up the throttles, heading for the ocean channel. The skiff was moving fast enough to try to plane and it bounced over the waves, making it tough to talk and hold on at the same time.

Ellison went back to Robert behind the steering console. “Did he tell you anything?”

Robert shook his head. “Just that they weren’t any of our people and that they didn’t speak much English. The two who were chasing us weren’t locals. I didn’t recognize the language but it was Asian of some type.” Robert glanced at the tall detective. “Why did someone from another country kidnap my son?”

Jim didn’t answer. The identity of the kidnappers put a different spin on things. “When we get back to your cabin we’ll need to call the police and have them come over and pick up the kidnappers we left at the cabin. We disabled their boat so they’ll be stuck until somebody comes looking for them.”

Robert nodded and turned the skiff back into the channel between Harmony Island and the main body of Prince of Wales Island. “We’ll call the troopers in Klawock, see if anybody can get up here. It may be a day or so, if the troopers are off the island.”

Jim shook his head. “What about local authorities?”

“There is a sheriff in Klawock and a couple of deputies. But I don’t think they have the manpower or firepower to deal with something like this.”

“Police by remote control. That must be tough when something happens.”

Robert shrugged. “We take care of our own.” Robert looked at the city cop. “You’d get used to it after awhile. Kinda makes you realize how artificial big city life really is.”

The skiff sped along almost mid-channel. Robert was wasting no time with sightseeing on the return trip with his son safely in the skiff. The low tide revealed huge jagged boulders and half buried logs along the shoreline, making the shallow water more treacherous. Robert’s eyes were intent on the water in front of them and Jim joined him watching for hazards lurking just under the surface.

Blair wrapped a hand in a line and settled his butt against the inside pontoon, finally urging John to join him on the floor of the boat as it surfed over the water. They nestled in with the cooler and backpacks, bracing themselves with their legs.

“What’s your wolf friend’s name?”

“He hasn’t told me yet. I call him Shadow but he doesn’t always come when I call.” The boy looked at Blair through heavy bangs that fell in his eyes. “What’s your’s?”

Blair grinned. “He hasn’t told me yet either. I think his name might be Trouble.”

John shook his head. “That’s not a name for a wolf. How about Runner? He sure likes to run. He kept taking Shadow and disappearing for hours.”

“Runner is a good name. Could the men holding you see Shadow and Runner?”

John shook his head and smiled a toothy grin. “Nah, they were too dumb. And I told the wolves to be quiet when they were inside.”

“Did they visit you often?”

“Shadow stayed with me at night. Runner would come in and check on me and Shadow every day.”

Sandburg listened to the little boy talk about his animal spirit like it was a real creature. He wondered for a moment what gifts this small boy might have as he grew older. It was a given the child would be tapped to be the village shaman someday, if he lived to be an adult.

“Did your Uncle Peter teach you about spirit animals?”

John nodded, then looked around him. His arm came out from under his blanket as he pointed toward the shore. “There he is! Shadow is running with your wolf!”

Blair looked where the boy pointed, grinned as he saw the two shadowy wolf spirits darting along the shoreline. They ignored things like rocks, and trees, just went through them. Blair squinted. A large black jaguar loped at Runner’s shoulder. Blair glanced at Jim who darted a look at him with a nod of his head.

“Where’d that big cat come from?” John looked at the men in the boat, then his eyes landed on Jim. “He’s yours’, isn’t he?”

Jim nodded. Robert was frantically scanning the shore. He looked at his son, then at the detective. He shook his head, then smiled a little.

“I don’t see a thing, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. I’m just not gifted enough to see them.”

John crawled up on the side of the boat and the wind whipping over them sent his hair flying. “Does your cat have a name?” he shouted, looking at Jim.

Jim smiled and shook his head. “I just think of him as Cat. If he tells you his name, you’ll let me know, right?” he shouted back.

John nodded. “He’s big. I’ve never seen a cat that big.”

Blair spoke up. “He’s a black jaguar from South America.”

“Cool.” John watched the three spirit animals. “He likes to play with Runner. I didn’t think a dog and cat could be friends.”

Jim laughed a little. “Stranger things have happened, right Chief?”

Sandburg nodded and made himself comfortable against the side of the pontoon on the floor, nestled against the cooler. It wasn’t long before his eyes fluttered closed and his head bobbed on his chest.

By the time they ran the channel and could see the dock in the cove, John was also asleep, propped on the floor of the zodiac, head leaning on the side of the inflated tube.

Jim shook his head. “How can they sleep with this much noise?”

Robert laughed. “An outboard is just a car engine. Some kids find the roar comforting and go to sleep. Others cry until you shut it off.” He shrugged. “Kids.”

Jim was looking at Sandburg, who was dozing next to John, his head bouncing on every wave. “Yeah, kids.”

Robert smiled. “Did I thank you and Dr. Sandburg? Thank you for rescuing my son.”

“We still haven’t caught the kidnappers.”

“Honestly, I don’t care. I have my son. He’s safe. I know that goes against everything you do. You’re a cop. Your job is to catch the bad guys.”

“They’re still out there. What’s to stop them from doing it again? The next time it could be your wife or both of them.”

Robert looked at Jim, his dark eyes full of worry. “So what should I do? Quit? Hide? Run?”

“Let me talk to your son, get as much information as possible. He might have overheard something, saw something that will give us a clue to who is behind his kidnapping.”

Robert didn’t say anything, and he studied the ocean channel in front of them for a few silent minutes. He finally looked into the iceberg blue eyes and nodded.

They killed the engine and drifted into the dock on their momentum. Jim hopped from the boat and onto the dock, carrying the bowline. He snagged the line around the cleat, then caught the stern line and did the same at the back of the boat.

Blair stirred from his place on the floor of the boat and stretched, yawning. He looked around, eyes blinking as he realized he’d slept the return trip to Robert’s home. He climbed unsteadily to his feet, then reached down and shook John’s shoulder.

“John, you’re home.”

Robert lifted the cooler out to Jim, followed by their packs. “Let him sleep. I’ll carry him up to his room. Then I’ll call his mother.”

Blair nodded. “He’s had it rough for the last few weeks.” He looked at Robert. “So have you. How are you feeling?”

“Complete. I feel… complete.” He lifted the small boy and cuddled him against his chest as he carefully stepped off the skiff. The father carried the son up the path to his home.

Blair joined his partner on the dock and the team watched Robert disappear into the woods.

“Now what?” Blair reached over, and grabbed a pack.

“Now we solve the puzzle.” The Sentinel and Shaman started up the trail.

They found Robert and John in the kitchen. John was shoveling spoonfuls of chili into his mouth and watching his father pace back and forth while he talked to his wife. His father handed the phone to his son with a huge smile.

“Mommy!” John shouted into the phone. “Mommy don’t cry! I’m okay. Dad found me!” He nodded his head as he talked to his mother, trying to reassure the woman on the other end. “Mom, mom, can I have a wolf? No, I don’t want a dog, I want a wolf.” He shoveled another spoonful of food into his mouth. “Mom,” he talked around his food, “too late, already got one.”

Robert looked at Jim and Blair when they entered the kitchen. He pointed at the food on the stove. “Hungry? I’ve got leftover chili and I’m gonna thaw out some steaks. John couldn’t wait for steaks.”

The two men exchanged glances. “We’ll wait. Steaks sound good.” Jim said as he went and sat down next to John at the counter.

“Mom, mom, I gotta go. I love you.” The boy nodded to the phone. “Mom, I’ll be good. I’ll be here when you get here. I love you.” The boy pushed the button on the cell phone and looked at Jim. “She’s crying. Mom always cries when she’s happy.”

Blair took the barstool on the other side of the boy. Robert gave everyone a glass of water then leaned over the counter and took his son’s hand. John looked at his father, then at the callused hand wrapped around his. He solemnly placed his other hand on top, then grinned at his father’s water-filled eyes.

“John, these men are the police. Can you answer some questions for them?”

John looked at the men on either side of him. He nodded at Blair.

Jim started, first asking John to tell them about the kidnapping, walking the little boy through what he saw and heard. Then Sandburg took over, instructing the child to close his eyes and see the people who held him and try to remember what they said.

“They didn’t speak English.” John complained, then looked at his dad. “Can I have a coke?”

Robert quickly got the requested item and a glass.

“We know they didn’t speak English, but did you recognize any names?” Blair’s voice softly encouraged.

John shook his head. “They spoke really fast and mostly they whispered to each other.” He gulped his Coke until the glass was empty. He looked at his dad again. “Dad, can I take a shower? That cabin was dirty and I had to sleep in my clothes.”

“Sure, son. You know where everything is.” The boy hopped off the stool and charged out of the kitchen. The three men listened to the footsteps as they pounded up the staircase. Robert was smiling. “First time he’s ever wanted to get clean.” The happy father picked up the bowl and glass, placed them in the sink.

“We need to call your State Troopers,” Jim stated as he headed toward Robert’s office.

Robert grabbed beers from the refrigerator and handed one to Blair as he followed Jim toward his office.

“What did you do to the kidnappers?”

“Left them high and dry.” Blair grinned at Robert.

“Tide went out on their boat,” Robert translated.

“Took their oars, prop, and spark plug.”

“That’s about as high and dry you can leave someone,” Robert confirmed.

Jim was on the phone to Klawock’s state trooper’s office when Robert handed the detective his beer.

“That’s right, we left them marooned. Mr. Agawick can give you the exact location. They need to be picked up and questioned. You’ll need a translator, someone who speaks several of the oriental languages.”

Jim handed the phone to Robert and gathered up Blair with a hand on the arm. They left Robert at his phone call and wandered out on the deck and leaned on a cedar pillar larger than both of them.

“What do we do now?” Blair looked at Jim, sipping his beer and watching the sun as it sank lower in the sky. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was only late afternoon. The sun would be up for hours yet. He sagged a little, amazed at how much had happened in one day.

“We’re still a long way from solving this. Robert is reluctant to keep going. His son is safe. That was his driving concern.” Jim commented, eyes on the piece of water visible through the trees.

“What about his business? It’s still in jeopardy.”

Jim nodded. “The kidnappers have lost this round, lost their leverage. They’ll have to regroup, reorganize.” He shrugged his shoulders, then rolled his head on his neck, trying to stretch a little. “They may try another target.”

Their conversation was interrupted when Robert joined them on the deck. “It’ll be morning before the troopers get here. If the kidnappers are found, they’ll be taken back to Klawock and questioned.”

“What do mean, if the troopers find them?” Blair cast a quick glance at Jim.

Robert shook his head, the gray streaked hair catching the patchy sunlight. “We just disabled the boat they were on. That was just a tender from a larger vessel. The ones left on the other boat may come looking and get their people off before the troopers get there. If not, the kidnappers could just hide out in the woods until the troopers come and go. Then get picked up.” Robert’s tone wasn’t too promising, just resigned. He finished his beer. “Anybody for a steak? John is starving.”

Blair finished his drink. “I’ll give you a hand.” He followed their host into the house.

Jim heard a pair of footsteps before the heavy wooden door pushed open again and a small body stepped onto the deck. Jim turned around and kneeled down so he was level with the dark eyed, dark-haired boy who was staring at him. “Hello, John. How are you feeling?”

John looked at Jim, holding a ragged looking Pluto in his arms. He remained completely still, meeting the light blue eyes unblinkingly. The little boy touched the detective’s knee. “Daddy says I’m supposed to thank you for rescuing me. Thank you.”

Jim nodded. “You’re welcome. Sorry it took so long.”

The small shoulders under the over-sized sweatshirt rolled a little. “Did a wolf tell you where I was?”

Jim smiled a little. “No, a wolf told Dr. Sandburg where you were. I just listened and came with him.”

“Why do you have a cat for a friend?” The dark eyes were narrowed, as if trying to understand all of Jim’s secrets.

“I don’t know. It just likes me and comes along with me sometimes. And sometimes it tells me to help out Blair’s wolf and I do.”

John nodded. “Shadow likes Runner a lot. I wasn’t afraid when they were with me. Runner would growl at the men every time one of them yelled at me. I know they couldn’t see him, but I think they heard him every now and then. They’d look around, grab their guns and go outside.  I’d try not to laugh because Shadow would nip at their feet.”

Jim nodded. “It’s probably wise that you didn’t laugh.”

John hugged the shaggy stuffed Pluto a little tighter. “I wasn’t scared, not really.”

“Do you remember anything else? A name, anything?”

The boy buried his face in the toy and shook his head. Then he turned and ran into the house, leaving Jim kneeling on the deck, watching the boy retreat. Jim stood slowly and turned back to the woods. His eyes caught a dark movement for second. He followed the movement until it materialized into a black jaguar who crouched at the edge of the trees and blinked lazily at Jim.

“What are you thinking?” he called to the cat. When the cat didn’t change to a human form, Jim frowned. The sentinel’s eyes followed the cat’s gaze when the black head turned and looked into the sky. A raven drifted across the tree tops. Sentinel and spirit animal followed it until it disappeared. Jim looked back at the cat. “Are we in danger? Are we being watched?”

The cat screamed, then faded away, leaving Jim staring into the trees, lost in his own thoughts. Blair’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, calling him inside.

 

 


	6. Sometimes it's not the end

It was midnight and Jim was standing in front of one of the windows of their room, eyes dilated fully as he watched the moon cast long shadows, his nude body silhouetted in the dim light. Several times he thought he had seen his jaguar, Sandburg’s wolf and the wolf pup everyone associated with John, prowling around the perimeter of the cleared land.

“Jim, what’s wrong? Come back to bed.” Blair’s whispery voice interrupted the sentinel’s brooding thoughts.

Jim turned away from the window and watched as Blair sat up. The younger man brushed his hair from his eyes and looked at Jim.

Blair slipped from the warm bed and padded across the wooden floor to his lover. He tugged at the thin sweatpants which threatened to fall off his hips.

Jim smiled at the sleepy eyes that peered up at him, then grabbed for a blanket and wrapped it around his lover’s shoulders. He pulled Blair into his embrace and snuggled him tightly.

“Why are you awake?” Blair whispered into the bare chest, his arms pulling the blanket tighter to his body.

“Something is going on. Our spirit animals are prowling around outside. I saw a raven earlier.” Jim rubbed the blanket-covered arms. “Go back to bed.”

“Not without you. If our spirit animals are here, we’ll be warned of danger. There’s no need to stand watch tonight.” Blair kissed the muscles under his face. “Can’t I tempt you with a little loving?”

“You’re always a temptation, Chief.” Jim lifted Blair’s face from his chest and kissed the heavy lips. The blanket dropped from Blair’s shoulders as Jim walked both of them back to the bed and pushed his lover down on the blankets. He followed Blair into the warm softness. He wrapped the blankets over them with one hand while he pulled the thin pants off with the other.

***************************

Blair moaned in his sleep, tossing and turning and waking Jim immediately. Jim sat up and pulled the covers away from his lover’s face. Blair’s face was damp with sweat and Jim could feel the dampness in the sprawled hair. “Chief?” Jim whispered to his lover, not wanting to startle him awake. He slid a hand down Blair’s side and hip, stroking the warm body. “It’s just a dream, baby. Go back to sleep.”

“Incacha,” Blair whispered. He turned over and snuggled against Jim, still mumbling.

Jim froze. Then he reversed his original intention to wake his lover. He bent close to the closest ear. “Talk to him, Chief. Listen to him.” Blair rolled away from the warm body, still mumbling. Jim tucked the blankets close to the broad shoulders. Then he lay down on his back and listened to the mumbling of his Shaman as Blair carried on a conversation with Incacha on the spirit plane.

_Blair sat on a moss covered log and watched as the large grey wolf trotted up to him, Incacha strolling at the animal’s side. Blair bowed slightly to the Indian Shaman._

_“Incacha. I’m surprised to see you.”_

_Incacha sat down on the leaf littered forest floor and stroked the wolf that was stretched out between them. “Young Shaman. Your search for the boy has brought you far. Have you met the child’s spirit guide yet?”_

_Blair shook his head. Immediately the deep undergrowth rustled and a wolf pup bounced over and licked the adult wolf’s face. Then it jumped on Blair’s legs, demanding attention. Blair pulled it up into his lap and tried to dodge the furious lapping tongue._

_Incacha pulled the pup’s tail and laughed. “This one’s young master has great potential if he is allowed to follow his heart. But a darkness is shadowing him, endangering his spirit, and his life. You must stop the shadow that follows him.” Incacha pointed to the sky where a raven circled over head._

_Blair looked at the blackbird. “Daniel.” He looked back at Incacha. “I don’t think Daniel is evil, Incacha, I think he’s being forced to do something he doesn’t want to do.” Blair’s eyes followed the hovering bird. Suddenly, another bird shot from a tree and angled for the raven. A large horned owl chased the raven for a distance, then circled back, finally landing in a tree close to the two men. The huge gold eyes blinked at the gathering of Shamans and wolves._

_Incacha pointed at the owl. “I see you have another guardian, young Shaman.”_

_Blair shook his head. “Not me, John. That’s Peter. He’s the Shaman of John’s tribe.” For a moment, Blair wondered at how strange that statement sounded._

_Incacha nodded. “Then the boy has a teacher. That is good. You and your Sentinel will protect him, bring him to his teacher.”_

_“What about the boy’s family? Are they still in jeopardy?”_

_Incacha shrugged. “I cannot see the web of their material lives.”_

_Blair petted the wolf pup a moment later, then dropped it next to Incacha. “Do his tribe’s legends play a part of John’s danger?”_

_“The people who use his legends against him will use the tribal fear.”_

_Blair nodded. He stood up, brushed off the seat of his jeans. “I have to go. Will I see you again?” He offered his hand to Incacha and pulled the Shaman to his feet. “_

_On this plane, all things are possible. Tell Enquiri that I still watch over him.”_

_Blair nodded again._

Jim was watching Blair’s face when his partner’s heart spiked toward waking. He had monitored his lover through out the night, waiting for Blair to return from his spirit dream. The deep blue eyes opened, blinked, then opened again, blinking at Jim’s intense gaze.

Jim nuzzled the tangled curls. “Morning, love. Did you and Incacha have a nice chat?”

“Huh?” Blair studied his larger lover, who was carding his fingers through the auburn curls. He pushed himself up on his elbows.

“You were talking in your sleep. I couldn’t understand what you were saying, but I heard Incacha’s name a few times.” Jim sat up, pulled a pillow around until his back was cushioned, then pulled Blair into his arms and up on his chest. Blair snuggled into Jim’s chest, one arm snaking around the broad body.

“Incacha said to tell you he still watches over you."

Jim carded the long tangled curls with a finger. “I need all the guardian angels I can get.” He smiled at the eyes twinkling up at him. He say anything else?”

“John will be a strong shaman when he grows up. His wolf will be a wise teacher. Peter’s spirit animal watches him as well.”

“That’s good to know. Robert will be pleased to know that his son’s future is so secure.”

Blair folded his arms under his chin and stared up at Jim. “Where does that leave us regarding the kidnapping?”

Jim stroked his fingers through the tangled curls. His fingers drifted down the hairy body, tickling and stroking, making Blair squirm and giggle.

“If the troopers pick up the kidnappers and they talk, we might have some leads. The leads might ban out, might not. John said they didn’t speak English. So we’re looking at an foreign influence.”

“We don’t have any suspects.” Blair kissed a brown nipple, then nibbled on the hardened flesh. “So what do we do now?”

Jim wrapped his hands into Blair’s hair, tugged gently until Blair lifted his face to be kissed. “Let’s have breakfast, then talk to John. Maybe you can lead him through one of your visualization thingies and see if he can remember anything besides what he’s already told us.” Jim punctuated each sentence with a kiss and a stroke.

Blair rubbed himself against his lover, enjoying the feel of firm flesh against firm flesh. “We keep this up, we’re going to be late for breakfast or anything else we want to do.” Blair smirked at his lover.

“I don’t think we’re on a time table here, Chief.”

“Good.” Blair straddled Jim and wrapped himself around his lover.

*******************************

John was at the dock with his father when Jim and Blair walked down the trail from the house. The sun was peeping out from rapidly moving fluffy white clouds.

Robert was in the skiff, tinkering with the large outboard, which was missing its cover. John was sitting on the dock, feet dangling over the water, his stuffed Pluto tucked under one arm.

Blair dropped down next to the boy. “Good morning, John. How are you feeling this morning?”

John’s shoulders rose and fell. “Mom’s coming today.”

“That’s good.” Blair nodded. “Can I ask you some questions?”

The little boy shrugged again. “I guess.”

Blair tucked one leg under the other. “I want you to tell me about the day you were kidnapped.”

Jim dropped down into the zodiac and nodded to Robert. Robert wiped his hands on a rag, then nodded toward the engine cover.

“Give me a hand.”

The two men lifted the cowling over the engine and locked it down.

“The state troopers flew in early this morning. They found the old cabin but the kidnappers were long gone. They were going to fly the coast between here and the ruins, and look for a ship or processor that could be used as a base, then come here and talk to John.”

Jim nodded as he glanced over to Blair and John. The young man and boy were facing each other, sitting cross-legged. John had his eyes closed and was whispering to Blair, while one hand absently petted the stuffed animal in his lap. Jim tuned his hearing to the small boy for a moment, listening as John told about being taken from the dock he was currently sitting on. Blair was asking him things like colors of clothing, sounds of engines, tones of voice, as he walked the child through the experience piece by piece. Jim smiled at his lover, recognizing the same exercise Blair used on him time after time at crime scenes.

The roar of a Beaver’s engine echoing over the trees caused Jim to wince and pull back with his hearing. He turned toward the bay, eyes tracking the sound around the bay as the floatplane headed for the cove and the dock.

Robert noticed Jim’s attention and turned, trying to see what Jim was looking for, or listening to. A few minutes later, a brightly painted dark blue and gold Beaver on floats came in low on the water and settled gently down, throwing up spray behind it. The vibrations from the big prop echoed in Ellison’s chest and the sentinel actually placed his hand over his heart, trying to dampen the painful thrumming.

By the time the plane had coasted to the dock and a line was tossed to Robert’s waiting hands, Blair and the boy had trotted down and joined the others at the end of the pier. Once the prop stopped spinning, the doors popped open and several men climbed out and down the floats to the dock.

Blair watched silently, with one arm around the boy’s shoulders. The pilot looked like an Alaskan bush pilot in leather jacket with sheep skin collar, stocking cap and sunglasses. His jeans were tucked into heavy sorel boots. The other two men were another thing entirely. Sandburg picked out the State Trooper in his blue uniform and heavy blue parka easily enough. The other man was a fed, through and through. Instead of the Alaskan wardrobe of jeans and heavy sweaters with boots, the gray haired man wore pressed wool pants and a matching blazer under a black trenchcoat.

Robert greeted the men on the dock and introduced Ellison. The group of men approached Sandburg and John, talking over the status of the investigation as they walked. The state trooper towered over the pair at the edge of the dock. The man in the blue uniform squatted down to John’s eyes level and stuck out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Trooper Mike. Your dad tells me you had quite an adventure.”

John took the trooper’s hand and shook it, but did not answer the man. Instead, as soon as he dropped the hand he’d shaken, he darted to his father’s side. Robert swept the boy into his arms and carried him toward his home.

Ellison dropped back a step or two until he was even with the federal agent. Sandburg joined his partner.

“FBI Agent Tom Walren, Seattle office.” He shook the detective and professor’s hands, then looked around him. “Pretty impressive place.”

“The compound or the landscape?” Sandburg asked as they walked up the boardwalk toward the house.

“Both. I haven’t been to Alaska before. When the local state troopers called the FBI in, I jumped at the chance.”

“When did you get the call?” Ellison questioned the federal agent.

“Right after you left Cascade your captain was contacted by the Alaska State Troopers. Your Captain Banks briefed the troopers on your actions, and they in turn called us. Even though the kidnappers had demanded that the police stay out of it, we felt we’d waited long enough.”

“Did you get any type of information from the IRS?” Sandburg asked.

“Not yet. The last information I got was that they were very interested.” Walren shook his head. “From what I understand, you uncovered the tip of an iceberg.”

Sandburg shot a look at Ellison, allowing a tiny crooked smile cross his face.

“How did you find the boy, anyway?” The agent looked at the cop, expecting a briefing.

He got a revised story from Sandburg as they walked across the deck and into the house. The state trooper, Robert and John were in Robert’s den, a chart of the local area spread out on the desk. Robert had circled the location where John was found and the two men were discussing likely locations for a large vessel to be anchored. The three other men gathered around the map.

The pilot of the float plane joined them after a few minutes, shaking his head at each suggested location. The police contingent finally looked at the man, questioning his opinion.

“Well, I ain’t no cop, but if I was a bad guy, I’d hide a big boat right here.” He tapped a cove on the chart.

The trooper looked at the pilot. “Why there?”

“I used to fish these waters, work part time as a spotter now. That cove has good holding ground, even in a winter blow. There’s a small glacier on the cliff which is a reliable source for fresh water. The area is tricky enough; someone wouldn’t try it without a pilot or a damn good reason. A fisherman used to these waters could get in there at low tide. Otherwise ….”, he shrugged.

They studied the charted channel named ‘El Capitan Passage’, leading up to a tiny island called Egg Island.

Robert nodded at the comments. “That whole area is full of islets, pinnacles and uncharted rocks. I’ve only been in there once or twice, on a dead calm day at high tide. Even without having a keel, it’s a bad place for a boat. But once you’re in there, there are some pretty decent little anchorages.”

The pilot looked up from the chart. He finally introduced himself as David Mericulf. He had an accent that Sandburg couldn’t place. The professor glanced at the detective, his eyes asking a question that Jim easily read. The cop shook his head.

The pilot looked around the group. “We’ve got good weather. If you want to do an aerial survey, we’d better get started. The next storm is due into the area in forty eight hours. If we don’t fly now, we might not be able to for several days.”

The remark was followed by Ellison’s stomach growling. After a second, everyone laughed. Jim looked embarrassed, then chuckled with them.

“After lunch,” Robert announced and led them into the large kitchen.

************************

The Beaver held all of them with a little bit of a struggle. Robert didn’t want to be left behind and was reluctant to leave his son alone. So the boy was bundled between his father and Sandburg in the very back of the plane’s cabin.

The plane took off from the cove in a smooth ascent, the floats causing a rooster tail high behind the plane as it gained speed for takeoff.

Once in the air, the pilot circled over the cove, then headed up the channel towards the abandoned ruins where John had been found.

Ellison sat in the co-pilot’s seat with the trooper leaning forward between the two front seats. The three men in front scanned the water and all the coves, bays, and channels as they flew up Tonosek Bay and into the Narrows.

Jim put on headphones so he could hear the pilot over the constant roar of the huge piston engine. The pilot pulled another set free from a mesh bag and handed it over his shoulder to the trooper.

“Can you hear me?”

Both men nodded.

“Head nods are not vocal, gentlemen.”

“Loud and clear,” Ellison murmured.

“Roger that,” from Trooper Mike.

“I’ll keep us at about 500 feet. That’ll let us spot a vessel in the area from a good distance.”

The drone of the engine filled the silence as they watched the water and shoreline. The trip to the ruined cabin took only a few minutes and the plane circled the clearing once.

John leaned forward and looked down. He pointed at the fallen in cabin. “I know where we are.” He tugged at his father’s coat sleeve.

Robert looked out the window, crowding his son against the small rectangle panel. The father nodded to his son. “We were lucky we found you.”

John pressed his nose to the glass. “Look, there’s Shadow and Runner!” He pointed at the two wolves, not really understanding that not everyone could see the wolves.

Sandburg looked down briefly, then turned away. He grimaced as his stomach turned over. “They probably wanted you to know they are okay.”

The FBI agent looked out his window. “What? I don’t see anything.”

The teacher and youngster exchanged a quick glance. The boy spoke over the roar of then engine. “They are all ready in the trees.”

Jim listened to the little boy when John mentioned the spirit guides. He looked down at the two wolves as they loped into the woods. He sighed to himself, wishing that he was so easy with the idea of spirit guides and spirit animals, especially the black cat that shadowed his movements.

Their pilot tipped the big Beaver up on wing so Ellison could look down with minimal effort. The ex-fisherman pointed out cove after cove he’d fished from, telling stories of his own or history of the area from a commercial fisherman’s point of view.

Walren pointed at the channel they were following. “Ships come up that? I can see rocks through the water!”

“It’s called local knowledge, Agent Walren. Fishermen are in and out of here during certain seasons on high tide. But not the big ships, not the 100 ft. processors.” He leveled the plane out. “A big ship would fit, but why would anyone want to? If you anchor the processor in some place remote, fewer ships will deliver their catch to it. Less fish, less money.”

“So why are we here?” Walren asked, shaking his head.

“Because if you wanted to hide an illegal fishing operation, this would be a good place.” Jim spoke over his shoulder. “The kidnappers had to come from someplace. There aren’t any settlements in the area. Flying in and out isn’t feasible in the winter. A boat big enough to act as a base of operations is the only option.”

The trooper listened to the conversation, nodding. “John said he was held on a boat for awhile before he was moved to the abandoned cabin. He said he thought is sounded really big and it smelled like dead fish.”

Blair spoke up from the very back of the cabin, raising his voice to be heard over the roaring engine. “He also said he climbed up and down ladders on the boat and that it didn’t rock when they walked.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute. The kid was snatched because his dad owns a logging camp. When did fishing get involved?” Walren fumed at the Washington cop.

“It’s all tied in together.” Blair’s eyes lit up as he leaned forward and started to explain their theory on the connection between the two.

Ellison turned back to watching the sea as it sped by under the wings. He had the chart of the area on his knee and was trying to track their flight as each islet and mountain peak went by.

Mericulf pointed toward the island they were approaching. “That’s Egg Island. Once we pass that, the channel gets real narrow and twisty before it opens up into a fairly deep bay. It’s not large, maybe a quarter mile across.” The pilot glanced at Ellison. “You realize that this is just a stab in the dark, right? There are hundreds of uncharted coves and bays along this shoreline. Just because I thought that this would be a good hiding place, doesn’t mean your kidnappers will.”

Ellison and the state troopers nodded.

“It’s as good a place as any to start. If we strike out here, we’ll keep flying the coast until we run out of fuel or daylight.” Trooper Mike stated.

“It’ll be fuel first.” Mericluf tapped a gauge. “We have a little over an hour before we have to turn around so I can make it back to Klawock to refuel.”

Jim looked at his watch. 3pm. An hour search time, which wasn’t much. How much of this huge coast could they cover in an hour?

The trooper tapped Ellison on the arm. “Have you given any thought as to what we’re going to do if we find this base of operations, if there is a base of operations to find?”

At the detective’s blank expression, Trooper Mike continued his train of thought. “We’re in a float plane. We can land next to a fishing vessel, then what? We don’t have a boat to toss out and use to board another vessel from. We can land and run the plane up on the beach. But we still have the same problem. How do we get from the beach to the vessel? Not to mention, we don’t have a warrant for a search operation. There is something called due process, you know.”

The FBI agent chimed in. “If we find the kidnappers, are we equipped with enough firepower to make them surrender? I don’t know about you, but all I have is my service revolver. I didn’t come out here prepared to do battle.”

Robert called forward again, having caught enough of the conversation to realize the problem. “The best solution I can come up with is if we find the ship, we notify the Coast Guard and have them bring a cutter from Juneau.” He looked at the group of police who were staring at him. “Even with calling the Coast Guard, it’d be a day before they could get here. We’ll have to ask the local fishermen to blockade the channel and make sure the ship doesn’t pull up anchor and leave.”

Sandburg shook his head. “Why would they get suspicious? If we just fly overhead and keep on going, won’t we just be a floatplane going from one point to another? Ships must be used to seeing them in the area because it’s the only way to get around.”

The pilot nodded. “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s the wrong time of year for flight seeing and fly in fishing.”

Robert broke into the discussion. “But not for logging operators scouting the terrain. They may not be suspicious at all.”

“Won’t the colors tip them off? How often are planes painted blue and gold? Isn’t that pretty much a state color scheme?” Ellison asked the trooper.

The big man shook his head. “Won’t see it from the water. All someone looking up would see are the floats and the belly.”

They fell silent as the plane flew deeper into the tongue of salt water that flowed into the larger channel. The water was calm, crystal clear and all the obstructions were visible to the group looking down.

“Heads up,” David called. “That looks like a processor to me.” The pilot banked the single engine plane so the cops could see the large ship nestled into an indention in the channel barely large enough to hold it.

“That’s not an American flag at the masthead.” The pilot pointed at the tattered rag flying from a pole above the bridge. The flag was mostly white, with the remains of a faded blue and red emblem in the center and faded black lines around it.

“Anybody read whatever that says?” Jim pointed to the symbols on the stern representing the ship’s name. Streaks of rust obscured part of the symbols and there was no English translation underneath the symbols.

“There’s a tender on the rock beach.” The trooper pointed at a dory tied up on the one flat spot available.

“Do we land?”, the pilot called to the men with him. He banked around, taking the plane back out into the wider bay.

“No, like you said, we’re without the equipment or the firepower to board the ship.” Jim shook his head.

The FBI man looked from one face to another incredulously. “That’s it? That’s all we’re going to do? Fly over?”

“Unless you can walk on water, that’s all we can do.” Ellison glared at the federal agent. “We’re going to need some help.”

The pilot interrupted the glaring contest. “There’s a camera in the pouch behind your seat, Ellison. I’ll make another pass and you can snap some photos of the vessel. At least this way, we’ll have proof that there’s a vessel here. Maybe in Klawock there’ll be someone who can decode the name.”

The Alaska cop dug through the pouch and pulled out a camera with a small telephoto lens and passed it to Ellison.

The pilot swung the plane around so Jim could snap a few shots of the vessel, the flag and the name on the stern. Then they headed back toward Robert’s small dock.

The State Trooper leaned forward and pulled the microphone off the radio. He reached between the seats and deftly changed the radio settings until he was satisfied.

“Coast Guard, Coast Guard, come in please. This is N1842C to United States Coast Guard station.”

The cockpit was suddenly filled with a blast of static from the radio. “Comstat Juneau to N1842C. Switch and answer 22Alpha.”

“Roger, Coast Guard Juneau. Switching to 22Alpha.”

The pilot changed the channel and nodded to the trooper.

“N1842C, this is Comstat Juneau. Go ahead.”

“Roger, Comstat Junau.” The trooper filled the Coast Guard in on their location and heading. Then he identified himself and requested the location of the nearest Coast Guard vessel.

The unseen speaker reported two Coast Guard vessels in the Inside Passage. Neither was conveniently close to their location.

“We need a vessel in Klawock. We’ve discovered what looks like an illegal fishing operation based in a cove in Sea Otter Sound. We also suspect the vessel may be tied into a kidnapping plot.”

“Roger, N1842C. Is there a land-line in your vicinity? You’ll need to contact our operations office.”

Robert tapped the trooper on the shoulder. “We’ll use the phone at the house. You can set up a rendezvous with a cutter.”

The trooper passed on the information and signed off.

Jim turned enough to see Robert and Sandburg in the back seat. “We’ll pack our gear and go back to Klawock. That way we can talk to the cutter when it gets there.”

Sandburg nodded. He’d anticipated Jim’s thinking. They had recovered the boy, which was the reason they came to Alaska. They should pack up and head back to Cascade. But there were still so many unanswered questions.

The Beaver sat down in the cove and taxied back to Robert’s dock. Before the plane came to a gentle stop, John was pressing against the window and shouting.

“Mom! Mom! Daddy, Mom’s here!”

A woman was on the dock, waving. With practiced skill she looped a line over a cleat on the nearest float and snubbed the plane against the dock.

The prop stopped spinning as the engine went silent. The door closest to the dock opened and the boy climbed over everyone and leaped into his mother’s waiting arms.

She was laughing and crying, crushing her son to her breast. The other men climbed from the aircraft and finished securing the plane to the dock. Robert wrapped his arms around his wife and son, holding them both close. They shared tears all around.

The cops and teacher left the family on the dock and walked up the trail to the compound.

Jim and Blair let the trooper and FBI agent inside and showed them the phone in the office before they climbed the stairs to their room and started packing.

Blair sprawled on the huge bed for a moment. “I know we don’t have a reason to stay, but there is so much we don’t know.”

Jim nodded. “I know. Besides not knowing who kidnapped John, you’re really curious about how your spirit guide and John’s are connected. You want to know more about being a shaman.”

Blair climbed to his feet and grabbed his backpack. He dumped the contents and started packing. Jim came out of the bathroom with their shaving kits.

“You’re right, Jim.” Blair agreed with his partner’s observations. “Plus, except for the cold and damp, I like it here.”

“We can always come back.” Jim encircled his lover’s waist from behind and held him tight for a minute. “There is still that unfinished conversation about our future.”

Blair pressed back against the larger man. He reached back and wrapped his hand around Jim’s neck. “When this is over, let’s have that conversation.”

Jim kissed the top of the curly head. “Okay, when this is over.” Jim let his partner go and they finished packing.

Downstairs they dropped their bags next to the door and went into the office. Trooper Mike was sitting on the desk, the phone in his ear. He was shaking his head one moment, nodding the next. He finally hung up and looked at the FBI agent lounging in a chair, sipping a soda.

“A Coast Guard ship can meet up in Klawock tomorrow evening sometime. That’ll give us a chance to analyze the photos and find out the name of the vessel.”

Jim nodded and turned to Robert as the Native American entered the office, his son and wife close behind him.

Ruth went to Jim and hugged him. “Thank you for rescuing my son. If there is anything I can do for you, please ask.”

Jim accepted the hug gracefully, returning the embrace gently.

Then she hugged Blair with the same words and offer. Blair returned the hug whole heartedly.

“Well, to tell you the truth, we’d like to see more of the area on a vacation sometime.”

“Anytime. Dr. Sandburg, anytime.” She pulled back from the embrace. “Before you fly away, let me fix you some sandwiches.” Then she disappeared into the depths of the house.

John climbed up on his father’s desk and looked at the men still gathered around the desk and maps. "Are you going away? Catch the bad guys?”

Blair spoke up. “We’re going to try.”

John nodded. “Is Runner going with you?”

Blair nodded again. “If he wants to.”

“Will you let him come and play with Shadow?”

“If he wants to. It’s not like I can tell him not to.” Blair chuckled softly at the puzzled expressions around the room. “It’s a long story,” he said to the room.

Ruth reappeared with a platter of sandwiches. She sat it down on the desk next to her son and left, returning with coffee and a stack of mugs.

The pilot came in, wiping his hands on an oil-stained rag. Unceremoniously, he picked up a ham sandwich and bit into it. “Better make it quick. We’ll have to hustle to get to Klawock in front of the next weather front.” He spoke around the bite of sandwich, then washed it down with a mouthful of coffee. The pilot’s words spurred a flurry of activity as Jim and Blair ferried their luggage to the dock. Good byes and thanks for their work were exchanged. John hugged Ellison and Sandburg good bye after both men promised to return. They climbed into the floatplane and Robert pushed the aircraft clear of the dock. The small family stayed on the dock, waving until the floatplane disappeared.

Sandburg leaned over Jim’s seat so he could catch one more glimpse of the family as the plane circled the cove as it climbed.

“Think they’ll be all right?” He asked his partner.

Jim nodded. “They will be if our hunches are right. Since the FBI is involved, along with the local police, I don’t anticipate anyone bothering them again.”

Sandburg nodded and leaned back in the seat. He snubbed the shoulder harness tight and then leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes.

Peter and Daniel Blackburn met them as the plane taxied up to the only hangar on the Klawock airport. Peter was smiling, but the expression on Daniel’s face was thunderous. He quickly wiped of the scowl as the policemen climbed out of the plane.

Peter slapped Jim on the back. “Robert called and told me you found John. That’s great news. You’ll have to tell me all about it.” Peter went to Sandburg as the teacher lifted out their packs and interrupted him. The tribal Shaman pulled the younger man into a hug.

“You did a good job, young Shaman. John has a strong spirit. It’s a good thing he is being watched over by such strong guardians.” Peter turned Blair toward the hangar and draped his arm over Sandburg’s shoulder, relieving him of the backpack at the same time. He nodded toward Jim. “After you and Detective Ellison went up to Robert’s, I did a little research. The jaguar is from South America, isn’t it? When Ellison was lost in Peru, the jaguar came to him during those eighteen months."

Sandburg rocked his shoulder. “That’s one theory.” He kept walking, waiting for Peter to continue.

Peter chuckled. “You are extremely protective of the Detective, Dr. Sandburg. I assure you, I’ll never use my knowledge to harm him.”

Sandburg opened the door for the older man. “I never thought you would. Jim is just a little sensitive about the jaguar. Just as I’m sure you’re a little sensitive about your owl.”

Peter laughed. “So you saw it? I wasn’t sure if you’d recognize it or not.”

“I saw the owl – and the raven.”

Peter dropped his head. “Yes, the raven. I tried to talk to Daniel. I couldn’t get any answers that sounded like the truth. I don’t know what he is hiding.”

Sandburg slipped from underneath the arm draped across his shoulder and held the door open as Jim came in, carrying his pack and a box of stuff from the plane. The federal agent and the state trooper followed him.

Daniel brought up the rear of the group and greeted each man politely. He mumbled to Peter as he walked to the coffee pot. “I brought the jeep. I’ll take the packs and bring it around to the door.” The younger man poured a cup of coffee from the urn on a corner table and continued out the door.

Blair watched the retreating back. He glanced at Peter. “He’s not happy to see us, is he?”

Peter shrugged. “I think we’ll have to talk to my son.”

Sandburg nodded and went to his partner. Jim was shaking their pilot’s hand and thanking him for his help. Sandburg added his thanks and watched the pilot fill his thermos and disappear back to his aircraft.

Jim glanced at his partner then at the two other cops who were raiding the vending machine. Before he could approach the other men, Daniel came in.

“I’ve got the jeep. Anybody need a ride into town for lodging?”

Peter sighed and shot a glance at Blair. “I’d offer a place to crash, but Daniel’s family is taking up my spare rooms.”

“Guess we all need a ride then.” Jim said with a small smile and took Sandburg by the elbow and headed for the exit.

Two hours after they were dropped at the small local hotel, their evening was interrupted by fierce pounding on their door.

Jim glanced at Blair who was curled up on the bed with a bowl of p opcorn and the TV remote.

“Were we expecting anyone?” Jim pushed up from his comfortable chair and closed his book before answering the door. Blair shook his head and reached for his sweatpants and pulled them on over his shorts.

On the other side of the door, Peter stood, grinning with a bottle of wine and glasses. Jim blinked at their unexpected guest. He stood aside and let the village shaman into their small domain.

Peter nodded at Blair and held up the bottle. “I thought you would like to celebrate successfully rescuing John.”

Jim closed the door and offered their guest a seat. The room was silent as Peter uncorked the red wine and poured each man a glass. He passed the glasses around and raised his in a toast.

“To John and his safe return. Thank you.”

They clicked their glasses together and drank. Finished, Peter sat the glass down and flopped into a chair. “Okay, how did you do it?”

The three men visited until late into the night, telling of how they found the boy and outlining their next step. The bottle was empty before Blair brought up the one name that hung between them.

“Peter, we need to talk to Daniel.”

Peter hung his head. “Yes, I know. He’s been avoiding me, until this week. Now that John is home, Daniel is acting very nervous. He keeps starting to say something, then drops it.”

Jim nodded and drained his glass. “He’s rattled. Think he’ll talk to us?”

Peter rocked his shoulders. “Maybe.” He got up and pulled on his jacket. “Maybe. Why don’t you come up to the house tomorrow after your little adventure with the Coast Guard? When you tell him your theory and opinions, he might open up.” He shook the hands offered and said goodnight.

Jim closed and locked the door. He leaned his head against the wood door. “Comment?” he called to Blair.

Sandburg’s answer was a tee shirt wadded up and impacting the back of Jim’s head. A pair of sweatpants followed. “Shower.” The sound of water hitting tile followed Blair’s announcement.

*************************

“I’m sorry, Detective Ellison, but you’re out of your jurisdiction.” The FBI agent who had been so congenial the day before, was pacing around the office, his hands deep in his trench coat pockets as he talked.

“When the Coast Guard identified that processor as a South Korean ship, this case moved from kidnapping a local boy to a violation of international law.” He pulled out a chair and sat down, straddling the wooden seat. The small State police office was filled with Coast Guard sailors, troopers, and two FBI men. Ellison and Sandburg were out numbered and off their home turf. But Ellison was determined to be a part of this final moment.

Ellison met the agent’s eyes and glared. Then he panned up to the captain of the Coast Guard cutter moored in Klawock’s harbor, towering over the fishing vessels berthed there. The deep green eyes of the captain met Jim’s ice blue ones unblinkingly. The man was as tall as Jim, craggy faced and silver haired. His face and hands showed the years of sea life, but the eyes twinkled and his smile was gentle.

“Captain, I realize that our presence is not normal operating procedures. However, you wouldn’t be here if we hadn’t started this investigation. We would like to see it to the end.”

The captain opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the federal agent.

“Your job was to find a missing boy. You did that.” The man was almost smirking. “I suggest you catch the next flight back to Seattle.”

Jim growled and gripped the armrests as if he was going to lunge to his feet. Blair’s hand on his forearm stopped him. The large cop glanced at his partner then settled back, waiting to see what Sandburg was going to say.

Blair patted Jim’s arm lightly, then focused his attention on the cutter captain. “Captain, can you explain to me how you plan to board the South Korean vessel?”

The skipper nodded to one of his sailors who unrolled a chart and anchored it down with coffee cups. “We’ll bring our ship into the outer channel and use it to block the processor’s escape. We’ll lower two of our run-abouts over the side, with search warrants and orders to follow us back to Klawock. We’ll have a helicopter circling the operation, in case they have several tenders that make a run into shallow water and to provide a video log of our actions for court proceedings."

Blair looked at the troopers and FBI. “And you will …?”

Trooper Mike spoke up. “We’ll be on the cutter to assist in the boarding actions.”

Blair glanced at Jim, then back to the captain. “Would you object to us being on the helicopter?”

The captain smiled and nodded. “I have no objections. You won’t be involved in our search and seizure, but your observations may be useful.”

Sandburg almost laughed. In Cascade they were constantly in helicopters for one reason or another. Using a chopper as an operational platform was nothing new.

Once that decision was made, things started moving very quickly. Ellison and Sandburg hustled to the harbor and aboard the helicopter waiting in the harbor parking lot.

The 100 foot cutter, named the Cape Fairweather, rested long side a long pier. It was being loaded with the state police, the federal agent, and a local policeman who spoke Korean. A gun was mounted on the bow of the ship and crew members were loading supplies. A puff of smoke indicated the large diesel engines had started and lines were being cast off.

The pilot of the Coast Guard helicopter handed Ellison and Sandburg orange CG mustang suits and urged the two men into them. They were joined by another CG member who was carrying video gear which he mounted on a framework just inside the doorway.

The blades started slowly spinning as the last crewmember climbed in. By the time the cutter cleared the breakwater, the helo had circled the harbor once and confirmed its course to Egg Island, via Port Alice. The pilot explained they would top off the fuel tanks at Port Alice and wait for the cutter.

The sky was low and dirty with storm clouds but the threatening weather was still off shore. Jim watched the shoreline as the helicopter led the CG ship up the coast for a little ways before cutting inland between two ridges. The surf was high and breaking against the rugged cliffs. The ocean had been sparkling blue the day before, but was now an ugly greenish-gray and looked ominous.

He glanced at his partner who was pointedly not watching the water. Blair had pulled on a headset and was listening to the radio traffic, eyes closed. Jim reached over and touched the hand closest to him. When Sandburg opened his eyes and looked up, Jim gave him a ‘thumbs up’ and ‘thumbs down’ gesture.

Blair smiled a little then wagged his hand for ‘so-so’. Jim smiled at his partner, knowing that Sandburg was fighting a fear of heights that threatened every time they climbed into a helicopter. The detective squeezed his partner’s hand for a second. He went back to watching the foaming surf as it changed to rocks and cliffs, then opened up to a river delta containing a crumbling pier and several weathered buildings still defying the climate. The helicopter settled on a cleared and graveled spot where the pier touched the land and shut down. The crew disembarked and headed for a container van identified as ‘property of U.S. Coast Guard; on the side. They unchained the doors and threw them open and revealed racks of blue 55 gallon barrels, containing extra fuel. Jim took the moment to stretch his legs, ignoring the men rolling barrels and attaching hoses. Sandburg didn’t move and Jim smiled as he heard the slow heartbeat at rest. His partner had come a long way if he could fall asleep in a helicopter.

Refueled, the helicopter lifted off and headed for the rendezvous with the cutter. The cloud cover was still dropping and the helicopter disappeared into the grayness as it circled overhead, waiting for the cutter to appear in the wide channel that led into the cove containing the illegal processor. Occasional breaks in the clouds underneath them let Jim look down and see the green hills and angry looking water. Finally the cutter came from around an island and took up position mid channel.

“In position.” A voice radioed over the headset. The helicopter dropped lower and the ship came into view. Several inflatables were being lowered to the water. Ellison felt Sandburg lean against him as they watched the CG crews and the police cast off from the cutter and start for the processor. The crewman handling the video equipment followed the action, relaying information into the microphone as he filmed the boarding. The helicopter followed the inflatables up the channel until they had the processor in view. Then it lifted higher, hovering in and out of the clouds as the boarding orders were relayed over loudhailers.

The fish processor was a huge rusting bulk next to the small boats buzzing around it. Various crewmembers were leaning over the bulwarks, looking down at the orange suited men looking up at them. The runabouts circled the huge ship until finally a rolled up ladder dropped over the side and uncurled. The first runabout drifted to a stop and a crewman secured the ladder, before starting to climb up the rope rungs.

“Look!” The pilot pointed to a large metal dory loaded with three men that was speeding away from the far side of the processor. One of the runabouts was giving chase, but the dory’s dual outboards far surpassed the Coast Guard’s.

Without any encouragement, the chopper took up the chase, flashing over the runabout and gaining on the dory. The dory’s driver, realizing that the aircraft overhead was a real threat, headed for a narrow channel in the cove, shadowed by towering hemlocks.

Jim unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned into the pilot’s face. “Can you cut them off?”

“Gonna try. If they get under the trees, we’ll have to pull up and hover until our guys get here and can track them from the water.” The pilot sped in front of the dory and came down almost to the water’s surface, forcing the dory to turn or collide.

Jim slid past the crewman and his camera and looked down at the landing skid. The skid was more then a tube of metal; it was more like a wide ski, wide enough for his feet.

Sandburg grabbed his partner’s arm and yanked the bigger man around to face him. “You are not doing something crazy, Jim!” Sandburg buried both hands into the lapels of Jim’s jumpsuit and held tight. “This is not your job!”

Ellison glared at his younger partner. The hated it when Blair was his voice of reason when everything inside demanded he do something.

“Chief, if it’s not my job, then whose is it?” He looked down at the wide skid again. “It’ll be all right!” The words were out of his mouth before he could recall them. How many times had he said ‘it’ll be all right’ and it wasn’t?

Sandburg’s eyes narrowed and he shook Jim slightly. “If you jump, I’m right behind you!”

Ellison’s answer was lost as the pilot yelled. “They’re heading for open water! They slipped by us!”

Both Sandburg and Ellison watched as the dory sped down the cove, the Coast Guard inflatable in hot pursuit. The pilot was on the radio, informing the Fairweather of the escaping boat. Then the chopper swung over the processor long enough to get a ‘thumbs up’ from the boarding crew. The helicopter turned and started after the two speeding vessels, rapidly overtaking and passing the Coast Guard boat.

“Will the Fairweather try chasing it?” Ellison asked the crewman behind the camera.

The man shook his head. “Too big for most of the channels. They’ll fire a shot across it, chase it as long as it’s in deep water, try to keep it in sight. We’ll fly support and hopefully keep it from slipping into a stream we can’t follow them into.

Ahead of them, the Fairweather was already moving, swinging around to block the escaping dory. Water geysered up as bullets hit the water in front of the dory, forcing it to veer toward shore. Another spray of bullets forced it back into deep water where the Fairweather waited.

“Can you use deadly force?” Ellison was leaning over the pilot’s shoulder now, watching as the dory tried ducking under the Fairweather’s bow and was turned again by a high caliber bullets.

The pilot shook his head. “Only if we’re fired on. Then it’s self-defense. We can run them aground or ram them, damaging their vessel, but we can’t shoot them.”

The helicopter dropped lower, adding it’s capabilities to the chase and the dory was forced back into deeper water one more time.

The dory dodged and danced across the water, until the Fairweather moved from the center of the channel, opening up a gap on one side. Immediately the dory shot through it, finding open water. The Coast Guard runabout had almost caught the dory before the final desperate maneuver and now the chase was on again.

The helicopter lifted up and over the Fairweather and flashed by the runabout. It was on top of the dory in seconds. The crew of the dory ignored the orange and red craft, staying low to avoid as much of the prop wash as possible and running flat out toward another channel.

The pilot shook his head as he forced the helicopter lower in front of the fleeing dory. The dory turned sharply, throwing a huge rooster tail spray of water, almost hitting the hovering aircraft. The helicopter lifted and the dory took off again.

“Can he hurt us, doing that?” Sandburg yelled, barely hanging on to the seat and framework.

“He can get us wet, maybe soak some electronics, but other than that –“ the pilot shrugged. “I’ve been wet before.”

Behind them the Coast Guard inflatable was chasing them both and Ellison could see the helmsman shouting over the radio.

After a second the pilot nodded then shouted back at Ellison. “The runabout has to turn back; they need him at the processor. If we want these guys, it’s up to us.”

“They’re suspects in a kidnapping. Keep going.”

The pilot nodded at Ellison’s words then informed the cutter. The dory ducked the helicopter again and the chase continued.

Ellison looked at the fuel gauge on the helo’ then the dory speeding toward another channel. He made a decision.

“Get in front of them again. When they turn, they have to slow for a second. Over fly them low and I’ll drop on them.”

“That’s a big risk,” the pilot shouted. “Your timing has to be right on!”

“So don’t let me miss!” Jim turned back to Sandburg, met the wide blue eyes for a moment.

Blair was shaking his head. “You’re not going to do this!”

“No choice, Chief!” Jim shouted at his partner.

Sandburg zipped up the red suit to his chin and wrapped the velcro cuffs tightly. “So help me, Ellison! One of these days I’m not going to follow your lead!”

Jim grabbed his partner’s arm. “I’m not asking you to!” “

What else would I do? Stay up here and watch?!” Blair’s eyes flashed at his partner. “If you get me killed, I’m going to come back and haunt you!”

“Promises. Promises.” Jim gripped his partner’s arm tightly for a moment, then let go. His concentration was already on the task at hand. He removed his gun from the holster in the center of his back and placed it in a deep zippered pocket on his leg. His backup weapon was tucked into the identical pocket on Sandburg’s leg. Extra clips were stowed in pockets on chest and velcroed closed.

He sat down on the floor of the cabin, both legs hanging over the side and feet braced on the skids. Open water rushed by him as the helicopter twisted and turned, following the small boat.

Sandburg knelt beside him. “How are we going to do this?”

“Carefully!” Ellison’s eyes zeroed in on the dory’s driver as they hovered over the metal vessel. The instant the man’s hand moved to spin the wheel and turn the boat, Jim leaped. He figured the drop was about seven feet and he aimed for the widest part of the boat and the driver, hoping to knock the man away from the controls. He felt more than saw Sandburg leaping behind him, a faint yell pouring out of the teacher’s throat.

Ellison’s feet hit the driver’s back and knocked the man to the floor of the boat, Jim landing more or less on top of him. By accident, Jim’s arm hit the throttle as he landed and knocked it down, slowing the boat to a crawl.

Sandburg landed hard on one body but the sudden deceleration threw him on another and they all fell. For a moment he was dazed and he shook his head, hands grasping for something to hold onto. The bodies under him were doing the same. The three men grappled for their footing and balance, more concerned with themselves then the circumstances that had put them there.

Jim bounced to his feet and drove a fist into the side of the driver’s face, followed by a quick shove against the steering pedestal. Stunned, the driver went limp. Ellison glanced at the back of the boat and lunged for the man who was trying to aim a rifle at Sandburg. 

Sandburg was on the floor, one foot solidly planted in the stomach of one of his assailants. He had hold of a thrashing arm and with a quick thrust of his leg and a pull on the arm his assailant went over his head and out of the boat with a splash.

Jim’s grip on the rifle turned into a twist and a swing. The rifle butt caught the third man under the chip and he collapsed.

Sandburg looked up at his partner. After a moment he started to sit up and accepted the offered hand. He took the rifle when Jim shoved it into his hands and looked at the two men at their feet. Both men were groaning and starting to stir.

Jim found a coil of line and started securing the men while Blair took the wheel. He turned the boat back toward the man treading water. Sandburg turned on the radio on the steering column and tuned it to the Coast Guard channel. He looked up at the helicopter that was keeping pace with them.

“Coast Guard helicopter, do you copy?” Blair called over the microphone.

“Five by five. You guys all right?”

“We’re fine. We’ll pick up the one in the water and head back to the cutter.”

“Roger that. The Fairweather reports boarding successful and all suspects are in custody.”

“Copy.” Blair watched their approach to the thrashing man and cut power. The helicopter pilot came back on the radio.

“You boys handled that like pros. Sure you weren’t a SEAL in another life?”

“See you on shore.” Blair ignored the comment about their leap from the helicopter. It was not something he’d attempt again anytime soon.

Jim stood beside Blair as they drifted to the man in the water. Blair held the rifle on the swimmer.

“You going to behave yourself? Or do we make you swim for shore and try hiking out?”

“I’m freezing,” the man answered. “I surrender. I just want to get warm.”

Jim tossed him a cushion with a line attached to it, then pulled the man from the water and settled him next to the other two. Jim tied the prisoner’s hands and feet then joined Sandburg at the steering wheel as the dory started back the way they came. The helicopter was above the trees, leading the way.

Sandburg handed his partner the rifle, then the pistol out of one pocket. He glanced at the cop. “All in a day’s work, right? Jumping out of helicopters onto speeding boats, rescuing a suspect from icy waters.”

Jim frowned at Blair’s tone. “You didn’t have to follow me, Chief.”

“Yeah, right. Three against one. No way would I let you tackle that situation by yourself.” Blair turned the vessel toward the Coast Guard cutter as it reappeared around a bend. “You’re a Sentinel, not Superman, Jim. One of these days, you’re going to get yourself into something I can’t get you out of. Then, what do I do?”

“Call Simon.” Jim deadpanned.

Blair shot a glare at Jim but didn’t answer. Instead he picked up the radio. “Coast Guard cutter Fairweather. This is Sandburg and Ellison approaching from your stern.”

The radio crackled. “Coast Guard vessel Fairweather. Aye.”

“How do you want to handle this? We have three suspects in custody.”

“Come along side. We’ll drop a ladder.”

“Roger. Approaching on your starboard side.” Blair swung the dory along side the large white hull and killed the engines.

The two men looked up as a rope ladder uncurled to the water’s edge. It took a few minutes to secure the ladder to the dory and start their prisoners up the side of the ship.

Jim looked at Blair as the last man boarded the cutter and was handcuffed and led away. “After you.” Jim pointed to the ladder.

Blair grabbed the ladder and swung up a rung before looking back at his partner. “You’re still not forgiven for jumping, man. Supposed you missed?”

“That’s kinda like the pot calling the kettle black, Chief. Supposed you’d missed?” Jim gave his partner a quirky smile, then slapped him lightly on the butt. “Get up there.” Jim held the ladder until Blair was safely on board, then quickly followed.

Blair grabbed Jim’s hand and helped pull him over the side, then watched as one of the Coast Guard crew scurried over the side and motored the dory back to the processor.

“What are you going to do with it?” Ellison asked one of the men watching the dory recede from the cutter.

“We’ll leave it tied to the ship. Our boarding crew will bring the processor and all the crew back to Klawock. The trooper stayed on board as the legal authority, but that FBI guy is coming back with us.

“Great” Jim mumbled. “Where are the prisoners?”

“In the galley. Follow me.” The young sailor led Ellison and Sandburg through a hatch and down two ladders.

They found the prisoners sitting around a table, the wet one in dry clothes and a towel around his neck. Each one was securely bound by one ankle to a table leg and the table was bolted to the floor. They were young, of Oriental heritage and looked back and forth between each other, obviously frightened.

Jim estimated the oldest one to be around twenty-five and it was to that man he addressed his comments. “Anybody want to tell me what the whole story is?”

The three looked at each other, then started talking in Korean, to each other, ignoring Ellison.

“That won’t work, gentlemen. See, we fished you” and Jim nodded at the one with the towel, “out of the ocean. And you said in English* that you were cold.”

The voices fell silent.

Jim sighed. “Okay. We’ll wait for the FBI and the translator.” The detective turned to the crewman who’d escorted them below decks. “Think we can get some coffee, sandwiches?”

The crewman looked from Ellison, to Sandburg then back to their prisoners. He nodded with a grin. “I think that can be arranged.” He disappeared through another hatch.

Sandburg looked at his partner. “He thinks we’re going to either bribe them with food, or eat in front of them and make them think we’re going to starve them.”

Ellison shrugged. “A little of both, maybe. We haven’t arrested them or read them their rights. Might as well treat them as detained guests until the FBI gets here with the translator the boarding party took with them. That way there can be no confusion on the proceedings.”

Jim reached into a jacket pocket and pulled out two wallets. He placed them in front of the men whose ID they contained. Without a word he walked past the occupied table and lifted two empty chairs away from the wall. He placed them around another table in the corner of the small room, while the sailor reappeared with a carafe of coffee and two mugs. He was followed by the cook with a tray containing all the makings for sandwiches.

The sailors placed the food and drink on the table and began assisting the detective and professor with a quick meal, ignoring the other table completely. Jim poured himself and his partner coffee and slid the mug to Sandburg. He took the first sandwich finished and bit into it. He chewed thoughtfully then nodded to the cook.

Blair took the second one and smiled his thanks. He glanced at their captives who were watching them with wide eyes. Sandburg glanced back at Jim. Ellison glanced at the prisoners, then at Sandburg and shrugged. Blair took the hint and studied the three bound men for a moment. The two whose wallets lay on the table were whispering furiously to each other, knowing how Ellison had acquired the identification. Their eyes followed the detective’s every move.

“Anybody hungry?” Blair waved his hand at the mound of cold cuts and bread.

The three Orientals looked at each other, each waiting for the other to make some kind of move.

Sandburg shot a glance at Jim, an eyebrow in the air. Jim shook his head, obviously not understanding the whispers. Then the Sentinel cocked his head.

Sandburg heard it a second later; the sound of an engine through the water. He looked at Jim again.

“The boarders and the FBI returning?”

Jim nodded, finished his sandwich and reached for another one. “Guess that solves the problem of reading them their rights and making them understand.”

Sandburg nodded and grabbed another sandwich as Jim rose and started out the hatch. Blair followed the detective.

On deck, they watched as some of the boarding crew and the FBI agent climbed the ladder. A crane on the stern of the vessel lifted the Coast Guard’s runabout to the deck and two waiting sailors secured it.

The FBI agent hustled up to Ellison. “Where are they?” He looked a little green and rocky from his journeys on a bouncy, fast boat. Ellison pointed toward the hatch, but didn’t move from his position leaning against the railing with Sandburg behind him. The agent glared at them, then stomped toward the hatch, his gait a little unsteady, beckoning the other uniformed policeman to follow him.

“Don’t you want to be there when the FBI questions them?” Blair watched the agent disappear into the hatch then turned back to Jim. Jim turned back to the ship’s railing and leaned on it, eyes on the water.

“He won’t get anything from them. Two of them know they have been identified as being involved in the kidnapping. They’re too scared to talk to anyone playing hardball with them. They’ll wait until we’re back on shore. Then they’ll ask for asylum in exchange for their story. The Feds will want to know more then who kidnapped a boy. They’ll want to know how that processor got into our waters, how long it’s been here and a dozen other things. They’ll get their immunity.”

Blair joined Jim at the rail. “You sound like you’ve seen this before.”

Jim nodded, but remained silent. “Didn’t sit well with you?” Jim shook his head. “There are some things not worth talking about. Politics and crime is one of them.”

“Want another cup of coffee? Or sandwich?” Blair offered with a smile.

Jim looked back at the hatch then at his partner. “Coffee would be nice. And while you’re down there, make sure Walren read them their rights in English and got them translated and acknowledged.”

Blair nodded, grin spreading. “Anything else?

“I’m heading for the bridge and see how long it will be before we’re heading back.” “I’ll join you there.” The two men separated and headed in different directions.

 

Jim let himself on the bridge and paused. The bridge of the cutter was small, containing two seats on pedestals perched to swivel and see everything in and around the command center of the ship. The only piece of non-modern equipment in the spotless metal room was a wood multi-spoke wheel, mounted on a pedestal, displayed in a rounded corner. The wheel was polished teak, with a shiny strip of brass encircling the center. From where Jim stood, he easily zeroed in on the plaque under the wheel, stating that the wheel was from the original Fairweather, commissioned in the 1800s. It was an eye-catcher in a completely functional location.

The man occupying the center seat glanced over his shoulder. He nodded at Jim then pointed toward the empty seat. “Raise anchor,” the captain spoke over the intercom.

“Aye sir,” a voice came over the speaker. Underneath his feet, the deck vibrated as the anchor chain started up and into the well. Jim remained silent as the cutter got underway and gathered speed at it headed back to Klawock. After a few minutes, the skipper turned to Jim.

“Welcome to the Fairweather, Detective Ellison.”

“Thank you, Captain. Hope you don’t mind the additional guests.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call your prisoners ‘guests’, Detective. I will admit you made quite an impression on my crew.”

Jim chuckled quietly with an embarrassed smile. “It wasn’t intentional, I assure you.”

“We’ll be back in Klawock in a few hours. Would you like a tour of my ship?”

Blair joined his partner with another mug of coffee as Jim accepted the invitation and the three men left the bridge.

Two state troopers’ vehicles met the Fairweather at the dock. The three prisoners were escorted off the cutter under everyone’s watchful eye. The gossip about the Fairweather’s mission had run like wildfire through the tiny town and the harbor was crowded with the curious.

Ellison and Sandburg watched from the bow of the cutter.

“You think there isn’t much excitement around here?” Sandburg commented.

Ellison shook his head. “Not of this type. They probably consider it a rough night if several drunks get picked up.”

The captain joined them and they watched the two vehicles disappear down the gravel road. Then the three men shook hands and the Cascadians took their leave of the Coast Guard.

They found Peter in the group of on-lookers. The Indian beamed at their appearance and shook hands, slapping Jim and Blair on the back.

“Heard you two had a hell of a ride, Detective Ellison, Dr. Sandburg. Congratulations.”

“News travels fast in a small town.” Blair glanced at his partner.

Peter nodded as he led them toward his jeep. “Especially if everyone is related to everyone else.” He looked at the sky. The long day had disappeared into the long evening twilight and a couple of stars were beginning to break through the haze. “I bet you guys want some food, and something not moving under your feet.”

Blair opened the rear passenger door. “Ground holding still would be nice.”

“And dinner.” Jim climbed into the jeep.

“Dinner it is.” Peter fired the vehicle and they rumbled down the gravel road into town and to the only diner available.

Inside the smoky restaurant Peter demanded the full story of their day and the capture. His version of it had been embellished many times by the time he’d heard the story. Jim and Blair laughed over the story as it was being told and spent an enjoyable evening over steaks telling the true version. Pleasantly full and with their land legs back under them, Peter dropped them off at the tiny inn and promised them a home-cooked breakfast.

Blair followed Jim into the room they shared and closed the door with a kick. He glared at Jim’s back until the detective turned around. Sandburg crossed his arms and glared harder.

Jim sighed. “I know what you’re going to say, Chief. I could hear your thoughts all the way from dinner.” '

“Jim, so help me, the next time I am not jumping from a damn helicopter to save your ass!” Blair pushed off the door and boldly pushed at his partner. “You are not Superman! And if you are, who the hell does that make me?!”

Jim wrapped his arms around his companion and held the furiously gyrating arms. “If I was, you’d make a great Lois Lane. Always following where Supe goes to get the truth and tell the world.” Jim’s words were soft and his eyes were twinkling.

Blair tried to scowl but gave up. He barked a laugh and twisted free of Jim’s hands. “I am not Lois Lane!” He punched Jim lightly on the arm. “I’ve got more hair!”

“And better legs.” Jim pulled Blair back into his arms. “I promise, Blair. I won’t jump out of helicopters again.”

Blair tapped his forehead against Jim’s chest with a sigh. “Until the next time. Until it’s the only way to catch the bad guys. I know you. Superman has nothing on you when it comes to doing what has to be done.” He lifted his head and kissed his lover. “But don’t be surprised when I don’t follow.”

Jim returned the kiss and started unbuttoning his lover’s shirt. “Guess this means we have to find someplace that doesn’t have helicopters at our disposal for chasing bad guys.”

Blair didn’t say anything as his mouth was busy devouring Jim’s neck. He lifted his head and nipped an ear. “I’m going to hold you to that, Jim. At the worst possible moment, I’ll remain you and you’ll be stuck with staying on the ground and watching someone else fly off after the bad guys.”

“Uh huh.” Jim pulled Blair’s tee shirt over his head and tossed it in the corner. “Let’s shower and spend the rest of the night fucking each other silly. We need to celebrate.”

“I hear that.” Blair tossed Jim’s sweater in the corner with his tee shirt. “I’ll start the water.” He kissed Jim one more time before slipping free from his lover’s arms and starting toward the bathroom.

Jim watched his lover’s ass, then finished peeling out of his clothes.

“And don’t forget the lube.” Blair called from the other room.

***************

The morning dawned wet and dreary and nobody moved to get an early start on the day. It was already mid-morning before the phone rang in their room, announcing Peter was leaving his home and would arrive shortly. Jim grunted into the phone, then pulled Blair tightly against him, enjoying the warmth of his lover’s body. Blair grumbled at being disturbed before settling closer.

“We have to get up. Peter’s on his way.” Jim took a curl and brushed it across Blair’s ear.

A hand batted at the tickling curl. “Don’t wantta. Warm.” The voice spoke from against Jim’s chest, sleepy and rough.

“Me too.” Jim tickled the side of Blair’s face again. “Bet we can find some coffee somewhere.”

Under the covers, Blair’s fingers slid down Jim’s hip and across the muscled stomach. His searching fingers found the silk iron cock and stroked up it. “I can think of better things to do then find coffee.” Blair lifted his face and smiled up at Jim. “Can’t you?”

Jim brushed the long locks out of his lover’s face and kissed the lush mouth. “Oh yeah,” he whispered. “Turn around.”

“I can do that.” Blair kicked free of the covers and swung around until his head rested on Jim’s stomach. He licked up the length of the long cock and blew across it. He felt Jim mirror his actions. Blair kissed the velvet cockhead then pulled it into his mouth. He felt Jim suck on his erection and the two men enjoyed a gentle morning of making love.

*****************

Peter’s jeep pulled up to the small deck at the front of the hotel while Jim and Blair were sipping coffee inside the lobby. The two men pulled on jackets and greeted Peter as they climbed in.

“Morning.” Peter put the jeep in gear. “I was going to invite you to breakfast, but it’s more like brunch now. Are you guys hungry?”

Jim nodded. “Starved.” He looked out over the muddy streets through the wipers. “Nobody seems to be moving this morning.”

Peter rocked his shoulders. “Don’t know. I’ve been up since 7. Had several things to take care of for the tribe. I think I’m on my third pot of coffee.”

“Not on an empty stomach, I hope.” Blair called from the backseat. “Ruth made biscuits. Biscuits, butter and jam. Better than a donut with coffee. Daniel’s family is at the house so food is always cooking for one meal or another.”

“Did you get to talk to Daniel?” Jim looked at the shaman.

Peter shook his head. “No. I’ve tried but he’s been evading any subject that might lead into a confrontation. I figure when you get there, maybe he’ll talk then.”

The vehicle’s occupants were silent for a few minutes while Peter concentrated on his driving over the chug-hole filled road. The holes were full of water from the previous day’s rain and the jeep sent huge splashes of watery mud over the edges of the road. Peter’s cabin came into sight and they rolled to a stop in front of the boardwalk. The three men got out and stretched.

Peter’s wife stepped out of the house, followed by a younger version of Peter, who could only be Daniel. They watched as the three men approached. As soon as Jim was close, Ruth threw her arms around the cop and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you for finding John. You have no idea how much he means to us. Isn’t that right, Daniel?” She shifted her attentions to Blair, never noticing that Daniel hadn’t answered her questions.

“You must be starving. Peter said that he was going to pick you up and bring you over for a late breakfast. It’s more like lunch now, but I’ve got several things on the stove. Come in, come in.” She tucked one arm around Jim’s waist the other around Sandburg’s and towed them through the door. Jim glanced back at Peter who was almost laughing at his wife’s antics. As they entered the cabin, Peter held his son back and pointed down the boardwalk.

Inside, Ruth quickly introduced Ellison and Sandburg to a small Asian woman identified as Daniel’s wife, Cindy and a diaper clad son as Barry. Brunch was caribou sausage and eggs, hash browns, smoked salmon and sourdough bread. The group plowed through the food with Ruth encouraging everyone to eat and pouring coffee time and time again. She insisted on Jim and Blair telling of John’s rescue and the Coast Guard chase, making them repeat parts of it several times. Sandburg finally asked her why she was so insistent on the detail of the story.

Ruth sighed and cut the teacher another piece of warm bread. “I’m the tribal historian. I want to make sure I have it right before I write it down.”

Blair’s eyes sparkled. “Does this mean you have access to stories passed down through the generations?”

Ruth nodded. She looked at the sparkling blue eyes and sighed again. “And yes, you can go through some of them, if you like. Contrary to a lot of tribal beliefs, I do not believe in hiding our history from others. If we don’t share it, we’ll lose it. Just like our language and customs.”

“That would be wonderful.” Blair was almost twitching in excitement. He glanced at Jim, eyes glowing at the prospect of new discoveries.

Jim smiled at his companion. “Chief, it may have to wait for a return trip. We’re running out of time here.”

Peter spoke up. “You’re both are welcome anytime. Winter or summer.”

Jim nodded. “We might take you up on it in the next year or so.”

Blair seconded his partner. “We really love it here. So quiet, peaceful.”

Ruth grumbled. “As long as you’re not dealing with kidnapped children and illegal processing ships.”

Peter and Daniel had entered the dining room as the story telling finished up. They’d taken chairs at the table but chewed on pieces of salmon.

Daniel finally broke his long silence. “What’s going to happen to everyone involved in this mess?”

Jim looked at the man from over the rim of his coffee cup. Daniel’s heart rate was very high and his breathing was close behind it. He met the dark brown eyes and held them with his blue ones, trying to will the man to calm down and tell him the whole story.

“Daniel, that depends on a lot of things. Anyone who is willing to turn state’s evidence will have it easier than someone who doesn’t. Anyone who confesses and helps the case will have a little consideration. Want to tell us of your involvement?”

Daniel’s mouth dropped open as he stared at Ellison.

Jim put his coffee mug down. “Daniel, we know you didn’t kidnap the boy. We also know that you wouldn’t harm him. But you’re involved somehow. Somebody is holding something over you. Money? A threat to your family? A threat to you? Whatever you tell us, will help you in the long run.”

From out of nowhere, Ruth’s hand slapped the back of Daniel’s head and the small woman rounded on the man. “Daniel, you cannot be involved in this! You can’t! John was just a baby! Tell them that they are wrong!” Her dark eyes glared at her son, daring him to speak. She didn’t like whatever his face revealed and she slapped him across the cheek.

“How dare you jeopardize a child?! Especially that child! Daniel, you know that he is only child of this generation so far with any of the old gifts. What were you thinking?”

Peter got up and went to his distraught wife. He took the woman in his arms and pulled her close. “Shhh. It’s okay. John is all right. And Daniel is going to tell us the whole story.” He looked at his only son. “Right, Daniel?”

Daniel nodded. He glanced at Ruth and then at the other two men on the far side of the table. “It wasn’t supposed to go this far. I was just supposed to help them make Robert not log this year. After the contract fell through, and the salmon season was over, they would let me off the hook. They would let all of us off the hook.”

“What sort of hook, Daniel?” Blair asked.

The Native Alaskan pushed away from the table and paced back and forth on the tile floor. He buried his hands into his pockets and stared at his family, before collapsing back in the chair. The sound of a chair scraping caused Daniel to look up. He met his wife’s eyes as she picked up their son from his high chair and quietly left the room. Daniel almost called after her, then dropped his head to his chest. He rubbed his hands across his face, then straightened again.

”Four years ago, I bought a new fish boat. We had a good season and everything was going well. I made a little money, was able to put some away for the slack times and make my payments on the boat. Last year was a different story.” He raked his hand across his back and gray hair, and looked at his father. “You know that. “The fishing season was bad. Prices were really down and my boat payments fell behind. I started getting all these notices from the bank. In the past, local banks have always worked with the fishermen to help us through the lean times. I figured it would be the same thing this time. I went up to Anchorage to talk to the bank about extending my credit. That’s when I found out my boat loan had been bought by some bank overseas.”

Daniel got up and started pacing again. “I couldn’t believe it. Nobody had ever ‘sold’ a loan for a fishing boat to another bank before. That’s when I found out that is was real common. So I tried getting in touch with the new holder of the note and found out it was worse then I could ever imagine.” He looked at Peter, eyes pleading.

“I didn’t know, Dad. Honestly.” Daniel glanced at Jim. “I’d put the family land holdings on the note as collateral. We’ve all done it on occasion. But this time…”

“This time a bank from some other place, didn’t know or care how you’ve secured loans in the past.” Blair whispered, eyes on the agonized face.

Daniel nodded. “Next thing I know, I’m being offered a ‘deal’. My boat would be paid off, the lands protected, if I was willing to help them keep the land from being logged. All I had to do was provide information. Who got the logging contracts around streams, who was most vulnerable to being exploited, that sort of thing. I came home and started talking to my friends. They told me the same story. Everyone who had a new boat had the same problem. And had been offered the same thing. That’s when I started doing the political action things. I figured if I made myself more visible, I wouldn’t be threatened. And if I disappeared, somebody would notice.”

“For how long?” Peter growled. He sat down next to his son, staring at the younger man. Ruth stood behind her husband, hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

“Just this season. After that, I’m off the hook.”

“And somebody else is on.” Jim growled. “And if you didn’t go along?”

“The bank takes the boat, and the land would be in jeopardy.”

“Why didn’t you come to the tribe? The counsel would have helped.” Peter pleaded with his son. “We’ve always protected ourselves.”

“Half the counsel is in the same situation I’m in. How do you think those new 100 foot boats are being financed?” Daniel lurched to his feet again, stomped to the coffee pot and poured himself another mug of the bitter liquid.

“So what did they ask? How to stop Robert’s logging operation this summer? Or how to kidnap his son?” Blair interrupted before Jim could voice his next question.

Daniel hung his head. “I didn’t tell them anything. But Tony -,” Daniel looked at his father. “Tony said he knew Robert’s weak spot. I told him to not to but by then John was missing. I confronted Tony but he said he didn’t know anything. I figured Robert would agree to their demands immediately and John would be returned in a week or two, unharmed.”

“That makes you an accessory.” Jim stared at the man. His eyes were hard. “When Robert didn’t go along with it…?”

“I knew Tony was in trouble. I figured since I’d been threatened that if they didn’t get what they wanted, they’d come back and foreclose on me anyway. They’re holding the notes on about a dozen other tribal owned boats. We could lose all our land. Land that had been ours to protect before the white man ever arrived. I couldn’t let that happen.” He glanced from Sandburg to Ellison. “Couldn’t let our history and heritage disappear.”

Blair shook his head. “Who are ‘they’? Can you name names?”

Daniel shook his head. “I don’t know any of the leaders. My contacts usually call and tell me if I don’t do what they want, something bad will happen. The one time I balked, someone cut through a couple links of anchor chain. Which was a warning.”

“Did you know about the processor and that it was illegal?” Peter asked, his voice ragged as he began to see what his son was facing.

Daniel shook his head. “I knew something was going to happen this summer. I didn’t know what. I didn’t know that John was hidden close by and was being guarded by someone on a foreign vessel.”

"Will you testify as to what you know? Will you help us solve this and get to the bottom of this?” Jim leaned back in his chair, trying to look relaxed and non-threatening.

Daniel snorted. “If I testify, they’ll just find someone else to use. Once the government is no longer watching, who will protect us then? We will lose our boats, our homes, probably our lives.”

“It’s your government too,” Blair stated, glancing at Jim.

“Yeah. When has the government out of Washington DC ever done anything to help us? Most of DC doesn’t even know Alaska exists.” He glared at the only white men at the table. “Your government took away our land and we fought for years to get it back. As soon as we get it back, someone else tries to take it away from us. First you kill us, then you steal our homes. When that doesn’t work, you buy it from us.”

“Wait a minute,” Blair protested.

“Daniel, we can’t argue about what has happened in the past or what will happen in the future when it comes to tribal rights. Our concern is bringing the kidnappers of a little boy to justice. Will you help us do that? Will you testify against the ones we arrested yesterday?” Jim put a restraining hand on Blair’s arm, knowing that the teacher was going to launch into a lecture.

Peter glared at his son. Then he glanced at Ellison and Sandburg. His lips thinned as he pressed them together in a frown that encompassed his entire body.

“I need to call the tribal council. We need to find out how many of our people have used our land as a guarantee for a loan. We need to find out how much our future is really in jeopardy. Daniel, you need to do whatever Ellison tells you to do to set this right.”

Daniel glared at his father. “Is that my father talking, or the clan shaman?”

“It’s both.” Peter looked at the ceiling, and took a few deep breaths. “As your father, I want to kick your ass across the room. Be grateful we have company or I’d haul you outside like your grandfather would have. I’m too angry to talk to you as your shaman.” The peace loving man spoke with fire coming from his eyes. “You’ve really disappointed me, Daniel.”

“It won’t be the first time.” Daniel mumbled. His head dropped to his chest as he tried to get his emotions under control. He finally raised his eyes and looked at Ellison. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

Ellison nodded. “Good man.”

Peter dismissed himself. “Excuse me, I’ve got some phone calls to make.”

“We’ll need to make some too, once you’re done. We’ll need to get the FBI back into this, and your local law enforcement as well. When we find out how many boats are involved, everyone will need to be brought in and make a statement.”

Ruth was left standing alone as Peter patted her on the shoulder and headed for the phone. She stared at her son. Her eyes were misty with unshed tears but she remained silent. After a long minute she gulped several shuddering breaths and walked away. Everyone heard the door slam behind her as she left the house for the solitude of the wilderness.

The dining room was silent around the three men. Finally, Blair tapped Jim on the hand and rocked his head toward the exit. They left Daniel to ponder the outcome of his actions.

The companions leaned on the porch railing and looked into the forest. Clouds had rolled in and it was beginning to mist heavily, the raindrops too small to make a sound. Jim draped his arm over Blair’s shoulder as they watch the rain.

“What do you think will happen?” Blair snuggled a little tighter against Jim’s side, letting the larger man’s body provide warmth in place of his absent jacket.

“I don’t know. There are so many variables here. We identified two of the kidnappers. John can confirm that. That part is cut and dried. Everything else will depend on who is involved, how much evidence the FBI can find to link a bank to the fishing fleet, to the processor and to the threat against the logging companies. There isn’t much we can do there.” He tightened his grip on Sandburg. “Time to make some plane reservations and go home.”

“I feel bad about Daniel.” Blair glanced at his partner who was staring at the trees.

Jim was nodding when Ruth stepped out of the trees. She waved at the two men on the deck and trotted up the boardwalk. “Feel better?” Jim asked as the woman joined them.

“No. The spirits are silent. The trees are whispering their sorrow. There will be no peace among my people until this is resolved.”

“Wish we could help.” Blair looked at the small woman and could see the sadness in the dark eyes.

“You have done much, young shaman. But this battle is ours to fight. When it is done, you are welcome to visit again. Peter says that both of you have strong spirit animals. I have not seen them. Perhaps, next time, they will show themselves to me.”

Jim nodded for both of them. Peter came through the front door, the phone still in his hand. He handed it to Ellison. “The village council will hold an emergency meeting tonight to see who else is in danger and how much danger the village is in. The FBI are still here. Guess you’d better call him.”

Jim looked at Blair, then at the phone. “Be right back.” He went inside as he pulled out his wallet to find a business card.

Blair watched his partner go. Then he looked at Peter. “How are you taking this?”

Peter shook his head, and wrapped his arms around his wife, pulling her to his chest. “I think I’m a little numb. My son. I knew he was having some financial problems, but he kept saying he was okay and holding his own. If he’d talked to me, I might have been able to do something. I don’t know what, but something. He’s a very proud man. And his wife won’t say a word against her husband.”

Blair nodded. There didn’t seem to be anything more to say about what Daniel was facing. The rain settled deeper on the forest and the ground seemed to absorb all of the sound as well as the falling water. Blair looked into the forest and for a moment he thought he saw his wolf sitting on a stump, the animal’s tail thumping against the wood before fading into nothingness. There had been a puppy lying at the larger animal’s feet. End??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this might seem unfinished, the story involving Jim/Blair is done. The bigger story of bribery, illegal fishing, government involvement, etc., is out there but I don't have the skill and knowledge to tell it. The place names within Alaska are all real locations. So is the Coast Guard Cutter Fairweather which does an awesome job in Alaska waters.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published as a stand alone zine years ago.


End file.
